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THE 


STRANGE ADVENTURES 


OF 


A PHAETON. 


BY 


WILLIAM BLACK, 

AUTHOR OF "A PRINCESS OF THULE,” “MACLEOD OF DARE,” 
DAUGHTER OF HETH,” ETC., ETC. 


“A 


> 



NEW YORK: 

JOHN AV. LOVELL COMPANY, 

14 AND 16 Vesey Street. 




transfer 

49 

FEB 1919 ": 

Serial Recoad Diviain. 
The Library of Congri-c 
Copy. 


THE 

STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON. 


CHAPTER 1. 

OUR BELL. 

the oak, and the ash, and the bonny ivy-tree, 

They grow so green in the North Countrie!’" 

It was all settled one evening in the deep winter-time. 
Outside, a sharp east wind was whistling round the soli¬ 
tudes of Box Hill; the Mole, at the foot of our garden, as 
it stole stealthily through the darkness, crackled the flakes 
of ice that lay along its level banks; and away on Mickle- 
haiu Downs—and on the farther uplands towards the sea 
—the cold stars were shining down on a thin coating of 
snow. 

Indoors there was another story to tell; for the mistress 
of the house—Queen Titania, as we call her—a small per¬ 
son, with a calm, handsome, pale face, an abundance of 
black hair, big eyes that are occasionally somewhat cold and 
critical in look, and a certain magnificence of manner which 
makes you fancy her rather a tall and stately woman—has 
a trick of so filling her drawing-room with dexterous 
traceries of grass and ferns, with plentiful flowers of her 
own roaring, and with a clouded glare of light, that amidst 
the general warmth, the glow and perfume, and variety of 
brilliant colors, you would almost forget that the winter is 
chill and desolate and dark. 


o 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Tlien Bell, our guest aud companion for many a year, 
lends herself to the deception ; for the wilful young person, 
though there were a dozen inches of snow on the meadows, 
would come down to dinner in a dress of blue, with touches 
of white gossamer and fur about the tight wrists and neck 

_^vith a white rose and a bunch of forget-me-nots, as blue 

as her eyes, twisted into the soft masses of her light-brown 
liair, and with a certain gay and careless demeanor, meant 
to let us know that she, having been born and bred in the 
North Country, has a fine contempt for the mild rigors 
of our Southern winter. 

But on this particular evening. Bell—our Bell, our 
Bonny Bell, our Lady Bell, as she is variously called when 
she provokes people into giving her pet names—had been 
sitting for a long time with an open book on her knee ; and 
as this volume was all about the English lakes, and gay 
pictures of them, and placed here and there little tail-pieces 
of ferns and blossoms, she may have been driven to con¬ 
trast the visions thus conjured up with the realities suggest¬ 
ed by the fierce gusts of wind that were blowing coldly 
through the box-trees outside. Ail at once she placed the 
volume gently on the white hearthrug, and said with a 
strange wistfulness shining in the deeps of her blue eyes. 

“ Tita, cannot you make us talk about the summer, and 
drown the noise of that dreadful wind ? Why don’t we 
conspire to cheat the winter and make believe it is summer 
again ? Doesn’t it seem to bo years and years ago since 
we had the long light evenings; the walks between the 
hedgerows, the waiting for the moon up on the crest of 
the hill, and then the quiet stroll downward into the valley 
and home again, with the wild roses, and the meadow-sweet, 
and the evening campions filling the warm night air? 
Come, let us sit close together, and make it summer ! See, 
Tita!—it is a bright forenoon—you can nearly catch a 
glimpse of the Downs above Brighton—and we are going 
to shut up the house, and go away anywhere for a whole 
month. Round conies that dear old mail-phaeton, and my 
pair of bonny bays are whinnying for a bit of sugar. Paiia 
is sulky—” ° ^ 

“ As usual,” remarks my lady, without lifting her eyes 
from the carpet. 

“—for though the imperial has been slung on, there is 
scarcely enough room for the heaps of our luggage, and, 
like every man, he has a deadly hatred of bonnet-boxes. 


OF A PHAETON. 




Then you take your seat, my dear, looking like a small em¬ 
press in a gray travelling dress; and papa—after pretending 
to have inspected all the harness—takes the reins; I pop 
in behind, for the hood, when it is turned down, makes 
such a pleasant cushion for your arms, and you can stick 
your sketch-book into it, and a row of apples and anything 
else; and Sandy touches his forelock, and Kate bobs n 
courtesy, and away and away w’e go! IIow sweet and fresh 
the air is, Tita! and don’t you smell the honeysuckle in 
the hedge ? Why, here we are at Dorking! Papa pulls 
up to grumble about the last beer that was sent; and then 
Castor and Pollux toss up their heads again, and on we 
drive to Guildford, and to Heading and to Oxford. And 
all through England we go, using sometimes the old 
coaching roads, and sometimes the by-roads, stopping at 
the curious little inns, and chatting to the old country folks, 
and singing ballads of an evening as we sit upon the hill¬ 
sides, and watch the partridges dusting themselves below us 
in the road; and then on and on again. Is not that the 
sea, Tita ? Look at the long stretch of Morecambe Bay 
and the yellow sands, and the steamers on the horizon! 
But all at once we dive into the hills again, and we come to 
the old familiar places by Applethwaite and Ambleside, 
and then some evening—some evening, Tita—^w^e come 
in sight of Grasmere, and then—and then—” 

“ Why, Bell! what is the matter with you ? ” cries the 
other, and the next minute her arms are around the light- 
brown head, crushing its white rose and its blue forget-me- 
nots. 

“ If you two young creatures,” it is remarked, “ would 
seriously settle where we are to go next summer, you 
would be better employed than in rubbing your heads 
together like a couple of baby calves.” 

“ Settle! ” says Lady Tita, with a smile of gentle im¬ 
pertinence on her face; “ we know who is allowed to settle 
things in this house. If we were to settle anything, some 
wonderful discovery wmuld be made about the horses’ feet, 
or the wheels of that valuable phaeton, which was made, I 
should fancy, about the time the owner of it w^as born—” 

“ The wife wdio mocks at her husband’s gray hairs,” I 
remark, calmly, “knowing the share she has had in pro¬ 
ducing them—” 

Here our Bonny Bell interfered, and a truce was con¬ 
cluded. The armistice was devoted to consideration of 


4 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


J>eirs project, which at length it was resolv^ed to adopt. 
AVliy, after going year after year round the Southern 
counties in tliat G^ig, old-fashioned phaeton which had be¬ 
come as a house to us, should we not strike fairly north¬ 
ward ? These circles round the South would resemble the 
swinging of a stone in the sling before it is projected; and, 
once we were started on the straight path, who could tell 
how far we might not go? 

“ Then,” said I—for our thoughts at this time were often 
directed to the great masses of men who were marching 
through the wet valleys of France, or keeping guard amidst 
cold and fog in the trenches around Paris—“ suppose that 
by July next the war may be over; Count Von Rosen says 
he means to pay us a visit, and have a look at England. 
Why should not he join our party, and become a coni- 
2 )anion for Bell ? ” 

I had inadvertently probed a hornet’s nest. The women 
of our household were at that time bitter against the Ger¬ 
mans ; and but half an hour before Bell herself had been 
eloquently denouncing the doings of the Prussians. Had 
they not in secrecy been preparing to steal back Alsace and 
Lorraine; had they not taken advantage of the time when 
the good and gentle France was averse from war to pro¬ 
voke a quarrel; had not the king openly insulted the 
French ambassador in the promenade at Ems; and had not 
their hordes of men swarmed into the quiet villages, slaying 
and destroying, robbing the poor and aged, and winning 
battles by mere force of numbers ? Besides, the suggestion 
that this young lieutenant of cavalry might be a companion 
for Bell appeared to be an intentional injury done to a cer¬ 
tain amiable young gentleman, of no particular prospects, 
living in the Temple; and so Bell forthwith declared her 
dislike not only of the German officers, but of all officers 
whatsoever. 

“And as for Count Von Rosen,” she said, “I can re¬ 
member him at Bonn only as a very rude and greedy boy, 
who showed a great row of white teeth when he laughed 
and made bad jokes about my mistakes in German. And 
now I dare say he is a tall fellow, with a stiff neck, a 
brown face, perhaps a beard, a clanking sword, and the air 
of a Bobadil, as he stalks into an inn and calls out, ‘ ITelU 
nare ! eene Pulle Sect / imd sagen Sie mal, loas hahen Sie 
fur Zeitungen—die AJljemeene f ” 

I ventured to i^oint out to Bell that she might alter her 


OF A rIIA ETON. 


5 


opinion when Von Rosen actually came over with all tho 
glamor of a hero about him; and that, indeed, she could 
not do better tlian marry him. 

Bell opened hor eyes. 

“ Marry him, because he is a hero ! No ! I would not 
marry a hero, after he had become a hero. It would be 
something to marry a man who was afterward to become 
great, and be with him all the time of his poverty and his 
struggles. That would be wortli something—to comfort 
him when he was in despair, to be kind to him when he 
was suffering; and then, when it was all over, and he had 
got his head above these troubles, he would say to you, 
‘Oil, Kate, or Nell,’ as your name might be, ‘how good 
you were during the old time when we were poor and 
friendless! ’ But wlien he has become a hero, he thinks he 
will overa'vve you witli tlie shadow of his great reputation. 
He thinks he has only to come, and hold out the tips of his 
fingers, and say, ‘1 am a great person. Everybody worships 
me. I will allow you to share my brilliant fortune, and 
you will dutifully Idss me. Merci, monsieur! but if any 
man were to come to me like that, I would answer him as 
Canning’s knife-grinder was answered—‘ I give you kisses ? 
I will see you—’ ” 

“ Bell! ” cried ray lardy, peremptorily. 

Bell stopped, and then blushed, and dropped her eyes. 

“ Wliat is one to do,” she asked, meekly, “ when a quo¬ 
tation comes in ? ” 

“ You used to be a good girl,” said Queen Tita, in her 
severest manner; “ but you are becoming worse and worse 
every day. I hear you sing the refrains of horrid street 
songs. Your love of sitting up at night is dreadful. The 
very maid-servants are shocked by your wilful provincial¬ 
isms. And you treat me, for whom you ought to show 
some respect, with a levity and familiarity without example. 
I will send a report of your behavior to—” 

And here the look of mischief in Bell’s eyes—which had 
Dcen deepening just as you may see the pupil of a cat 
widening before she makes a spring—suddenly gave way 
to a glance of urgent and meek entreaty, which was recog¬ 
nized in the proper quarter. Tita named no names; and 
the storm blew over. 

For the present, therefore, the project of adding this 
young Uhlan to our party was dropped; but the idea ol 
our northward trip remained, and gi-adually assumed defi- 


6 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


nite consistency. Indeed, as it developed itself during 
those long winter evenings, it came to be a thing to dream 
about. But all the same I could see that Tita sometimes 
returned to the notion of providing a companion for Bell; 
and, whatever may have been her dislike of the Germans 
in general. Lieutenant Von Rosen was not forgotten. At 
odd times, when 

“ In her hazel eyes her thoughts lay clear 
As pebbles in a brook,” 

it seemed to me that she was busy with those forecasts which 
are dear to tlie hearts of women. One night we three were 
sitting as quietly as usual, talking about something else, 
when she suddenly remarked,— 

“ I suppose that Count Von Rosen is as poor as Prus¬ 
sian lieutenants generally are?” 

“ On the contrary,”said I, “he enjoys a very handsome 
Familien-Stiftung, or family bequest, which gives him a 
certain sum of money every six months, on condition that 
during that time he has either travelled so much or gone 
through such and such a course of study. I wish the lega¬ 
cies left in our country had sometimes those provisions 
attached.” 

“ He has some money, then ? ” said my lady, thought- 
fully. 

“My dear,” said I, “you seem to be very anxious about 
the future, like the man whose letter I read to you yester¬ 
day.* Have you any further questions to ask? ” 

“I suppose he cares for nothing but eating and drinking 
and smoking, like other officers ? He has not been troubled 
by any very great sentimental crisis?” 

“ On the contrary,” I repeated, “ he wrote me a despair¬ 
ing letter, some fortnight before the war broke out, about 
that same Fraulein Fallersleben whom he saw acting in the 
theatre at Hanover. She had treated him very badly—she 
had—” 

* This is the letter : 

“ To the Editor of the ‘ Uampshire Ass.' 

“Sir,— If the Kepublicans who are endeavoring to introduce ? 
Republic into this great country should accomplish their disgustin: 
purpose, do you think they will repudiate the National Debt, and pa; 
no more interest on the Consols ? I am, sir, your obedient servant, 

A Lover of Mankind. 

“ Bogmere, January ISth, 1S71.” 


OF A PHAETON. 


7 


“ Oh, that is all nothing,” said Tita, hastily—and here 
she glanced rather nervously at Bell. 

Bell, for her part, was unconcernedly fitting a pink collar 
on a white cat, and talking to that pretty but unresponsive 
animal. 

“ He left her,” I remarked again, “ in paroxysms of 
anger and mutual reproach. He accused her of having—” 

“Well, well, that will do,” says Queen Titania, in her 
coldest manner; and then, of course, everybody obeys the 
small w’oman. 

That was the last that was heard of Von Rosen for many 
a day; and it was not until some time after the war w’as 
over that he favored us wdtli a communication. lie was 
still in France. He hoped to get over to England at the 
end of July; and as that was the time we had fixed for our 
journey from London to Edinburgh, along the old coacli- 
roads, he became insensibly mixed up vdth the project, 
until it was finally resolved to ask him to join the jjarty. 

“ I know you mean to marry these two,” I said to the 
person who rules over us all. 

“ How absurd you are ! ” she replied, with a vast assump¬ 
tion of dignity. “Bell is as good as engaged—even if there 
was any fear of a handsome young Englishwoman falling in 
love with a Prussian lieutenant who is in despair about an 
actress.” 

“ You had better take a wedding-ring with you.” 

“ A wedding-ring ! ” said Tita, with a little curl of her 
lips. “ You fancy that a girl thinks of nothing but that. 
Every wedding-ring that is worn represents a man’s im¬ 
pertinence and a woman’s folly.” 

“Ask Bell,” said I. 


8 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CHAPTER II. 


A LUNCHEON IN IIOLBOEN. 

“ From the bleak coast that hears 
The German Ocean roar, deep-blooming, strong, 

And yellow-haired, the blue-eyed Saxon came.” 

No more fitting point of departure could have been 
cliosen tlian the Old Bell Inn in Holborn, an ancient hostelry 
whicli used in by-gone times to send its relays of stage¬ 
coaches to Oxford, Cheltenham, Enfield, Abingdon, and a 
score of other places. Now, from the quaint little yard, 
which is surrounded by frail and dilapidated galleries of 
wood, that tell of the grandeur of other days, there starts 
but a solitary omnibus, which daily whisks a few country 
people and their parcels down to Uxbridge, and Chalfont, 
and Amersham, and Wendovcr. The vehicle which IMr. 
'I'borougligood has driven for many a year is no magnificent 
blue and scarlet drag, with teams costing six hundred guineas 
apiece, with silver harness, a postboy blowing a silver 
horn, and a lord handling the reins; but a rough and ser¬ 
viceable little coach which is worked for profit, and which 
is of vast convenience to the folks living in quiet Bucking¬ 
hamshire villages apart from railways. From this old- 
fashioned inn, now that the summer had come round, and 
our long looked for journey to the North had come near, 
we had resolved to start; and Bell having gravely pointed 
out the danger of letting our young Uhlan leave London 
hungry—lest habit should lead him to seize something by 
the way, and so get us into trouble—it was further proposed 
that we should celebrate our setting out with a luncheon of 
good roast beef and ale, in the snug little parlor which abuts 
on the yard. 

“ And I hope,” said Queen Titania, as we escaped from 
the roar of Holborn into the archway of the inn, “ that the 
stupid fellow has got himself decently dressed. Otherwise, 
we shall be mobbed.” 

The fact was that Count Von Rosen, not being aware 
that English officers rarely appear when off duty in uniform, 
had come straight from St. Denis to Calais, and from Calais 


OF A PHAETON’, 


9 


to London, and from London to Leatherlicad, without ever 
dreaming that he ought not to go about in liis regimentals, 
lie drew no distinction between Herr Graf Von Rosen and 
Seiner Majestiit Lieutenant im—ten Uhlanen-Regimente ; 
although ho told us that when he issued from his hotel at 
Charing Cross to get into a cab, he was surprised to see a 
small crowd collect around the hansom, and no less sur¬ 
prised to observe the absence of military costume in the 
streets. Of course, the appearance of an Uhlan in the quiet 
village of Leathorhead caused a profound commotion ; and 
had not Castor and Pollux been able to distance the crowd 
of little boys who flocked around him at the station, it is 
probable he would have arrived at our house attended by 
that concourse of admirers. 

You should have seen the courteous and yet half defiant 
way in which the women received him, as if they were re¬ 
solved not to be overawed by the tall, browned, big-bearded 
man; and how, in about twenty minutes, they had insensi- 
bly got quite familiar with him, ap])arently won over by 
his careless laughter, by the honest stare of his light-blue 
eyes, and by a very boyish blush tliat sometimes overspread 
his handsome face when he stammered over an idiom, or 
was asked some question about his own exploits. Bell re¬ 
mained the most distant; but I could see that our future 
companion had produced a good impression on my lady, 
for she began to take the management of him, and to give 
him counsel in a minute and practical manner, which is a 
sure mark of her favor. She told him he must put aside 
his uniform while in England. She described to him the 
ordinary costume worn by English gentlemen in travelling. 
And then she hoped he would take a preparation of quinine 
with him, considering that we should have to stay in a 
succession of strange inns, and might be exposed to damp. 

lie went up to London that night, armed with a list of 
articles which he was to buy for himself before starting 
with us. 

There was a long pause when we three found ourselves 
together again. At length Bell said, with rather an im¬ 
patient air, “ He is only a schoolboy, after all. Wliy 
should he continue to call you Madame^ and me MademoU 
selle/y\%t as he did when he knew us first at Bonn, and 
gave us these names as a joke ? Then he has the same ir¬ 
ritating habit of laughing that he used to have there. I 
luite a man who has his mouth always open—like a swal- 


10 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


low in the air, trying to catch anything that may come. 
And lie is worse, I think, when he closes liis lips and tries 
to give himself an intellectual look, like—like—” 

“ Like what. Bell ? ” 

“ Like a calf posing itself, and trying to look like a red 
deer,” said Bell, with a sort of contemptuous warmth. 

“ I wish. Bell,” said my lady, coldly and severely, 
“ that you would give up those rude metaphors. You talk 
just as you did when you came fresh from Westmoreland 
—you have learned nothing.” 

Bell’s only answer was to wmlk, with rather a proud 
air, to the piano, and there she sat down and played a few 
bars. She would not speak; but the w^ell-known old air 
spoke for her, for it said, as plain as "words could say,— 

“ A North-country maid up to London liad strayed, 

Although with her nature it did not agree ; 

Slie wept, and she sighed, and she bitterly cried, 

‘ I wish once again in the North I could be ! ” 

“ I think,” continued Tita, in measured tones, “ that he 
is a very agreeable and trustworthy young man—not very 
]»olished, perhaps—but, then, he is German. I look forward 
Avilh great interest to see in what light our English country 
life will strike him ; and I hope. Bell, that he will not have 
to complain of the want of courtesy shown him by English¬ 
women.” 

This was getting serious ; so, being to some small and 
undefined extent master in my own house, I commanded 
Bell to sing the song she was petulantly strumming. That 
“ fetched ” Tita. Whenever Bell began to sing one of 
those old English ballads, which she did for the most part 
from morning till night, there was a strange and tremulous 
thrill in her voice that would have disarmed her bitterest 
enemy; and straightway my lady would be seen to draw 
over to the girl, and put her arm round her shoulder, and 
then reward her, when the last chord of the accompani¬ 
ment had been struck, Avith a grateful kiss. In the present 
instance the charm Avorked as usual; but no sooner had 
these tAVO young people been reconciled than they turned on 
their mutual benefactor. Indeed, an observant stranger 
might have remarked in this household, that when anything 
remotely bearing on a quarrel Avas made up betAveen any two 
of its members, the third, the peacemaker, Avas expected to 
propose a dinner at GreenAvich. The custom Avould have 


OF A PHAETON, 


11 


Won more becoming, bad the cost been equally distributed ; 
but tliere were three losers to one payer. 

Well, when Ave got into the yard of the Old Bell, the 
Buckinghamshire omnibus was being loaded ; and among 
the first objects we saw was the stalwart figure of Von 
Kosen, who was talking to Mr. Thoroughgood as if he had 
knoAvn him all his life, and examining with a curious and 
critical eye the construction and accommodation of the 
venerable old vehicle. We saw with some satisfaction that 
he was noAV dressed in a suit of gray garments, with a tvide- 
awake hat; and, indeed, there was little to distinguish him 
from an Englishman but the curious blending of color— 
from the tawny yellow of his mustache to the deep brown 
of his cropped beard—which is seldom absent from the 
hirsute decoration of a Prussian face. 

lie came forward Avith a grave and ceremonious polite¬ 
ness to C^ueen Titania, Avho received him in her dignified, 
(plaint, maternal fashion ; and he shook hands Avith Bell 
Avith an obviously unconscious air of indifference. Then, 
not noticing her silence, he talked to her, after aa'C had 
gone inside, of the old-fashioned air of homeliness and com¬ 
fort noticeable in the inn, of the ancient portraits, and tlie 
quaint fireplace, and the small busts jilaced about. Bell 
seemed rather vexed that he should address himself to her, 
and uttered scarcely a Avord in reply. 

But Avhen our plain and homely meal Avas served, this 
restraint gradually Avoro aAvay; and in tlie talk over our 
coming adventures. Bell abandoned herself to all sorts of 
Avild anticipations. She forgot the presence of the German 
lieutenant. Her eyes Avere fixed on the North Country, 
and on summer nights up amidst the Westmoreland hills, 
and on bright mornings up by the side of the Scotch lochs ; 
and Avhile the young soldier looked gravely at her, and even 
seemed a trifle surprised, she told us of all the dreams and 
visions she had had of the journey, for Aveeks and months 
back, and hoAV the pictures of it had been Avith her night 
and day until she was almost afraid the reality Avould not 
bear them out. Then she described—as if she AA^ere gifted 
Avith second-sight—the various occupations avc should have 
to follow during the long afternoons in the North ; and Iioav 
she had brought her guitar that Queen Titania might sing 
Spanish songs to it; and hoAV Ave should listen to the corn¬ 
crake ; and hoAV she would make studies of all the favorite 
places Ave came to, and perhaps might even construct a pict- 


12 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


ure of our phaeton and Castor and Pollux—with a back¬ 
ground of half a dozen counties—for some exhibition ; and 
how, some day in the far future, when the memory of our 
long excursion had grown dim, Tita would walk into a room 
in Pall Mall, and there, with the picture before her, would 
turn round with wonder in her eyes, as if it were a revehi- 
tion. 

“Because,” said Bell, turning seriously to the young 
Uhlan, and addressing him as though she had talked famil¬ 
iarly to him for years, “ you musn’t suppose that our Tita 
is anything but a hypocrite. All her coldness and affecta¬ 
tion of grandeur are only a pretence ; and sometimes if you 
watch her eyes—and she is not looking at you—you will 
see something come up to the surface of them as if it were 
her real heart and soul there looking out in wonder and 
softness at some beautiful thing—^just like a dabchick, 
you know, when you are watching among bushes by a river, 
and are quite still; and then, if you make the least remark, 
if your iistle your dress, snap! down goes the dabchick, 
and you see nothing, and my lady turns to you quite proudly 
and coldly —though there may be tears in her eyes—and 
dares you to think that she has shown any emotion.” 

“ That is, when she is listening to your singing,” said 
the lieutenant, gravely and politely; and at this moment 
Bell seemed to become conscious that we were all amused 
by her vehemence, blushed prodigiously, and was barely 
civil to our Uhlan for half an hour after. 

Nevertheless, she had every reason to be in a good 
humor; for we had resolved to limit our travels that day 
to Twickenham, where, in the evening, Tita was to see her 
two boys who were at school there. And as the young 
gentleman of the Temple, Avho has already been briefly 
mentioned in this narrative, is a son of the schoolmaster 
with whom the boys were then living, and as he was to be 
of the farewell party assembled in Twickenham at night. 
Bell had no unpleasant pros])CCts before her for that day 
at least. And of one thing she was j)robably by that time 
thoroughly assured ; no fires of jealously were in danger of 
being kindled in any sensitive breast by the manner of 
Count Von Rosen towards her. Of course he was very 
courteous and obliging to a pretty young woman ; but he 
talked almost exclusively to my lady; while, to state the 
plain truth, he seemed to pay more attention to his 
luncheon than to both of them together. 


OP A PI/AETON. 


13 


BcliokI, then, our phaeton ready to start! The pair of 
pretty bays are })a\ving the hard stones and pricking tlieir 
ears at tlie unaccustomed sounds of Holborn. Sandy is at 
tlieir liead, regarding them ratlier dolefully, as if he feared 
to let them slip from his care to undertake so long and 
]>erilous a voyage: Queen Titania has arranged that she 
shall sit behind, to show the young Prussian all the remark¬ 
able things on our route; and Bell, as she gets up in front 
begs to have the reins given her so soon as we get away 
from the crowded thoroughfares. There are still a few 
loiterers on the pavement who had assembled to see the 
Wendover omnibus leave ; and these regard with a languid 
sort of curiosity the setting-out of the party in the big dark- 
green pliaeton. 

A little tossing of heads and prancing, a little adjust¬ 
ment of the reins, and a final look round, and then wo glide 
into the wild and roaring stream of vehicles—that mighty 
current of rolling vans and heavy wagons and crowded 
Bayswater omnibuses, of dexterous hansoms and indolent 
four-wheelers, of brewers’ drays and post-ofiice carts and 
costermongers’ barrows. Over the great thoroughfare, 
with its quaint and huddled houses and its innumerable 
slioj)s, dwell a fine blue sky and white clouds that seem 
oddly discolored. The sky, seen through a curious })all of 
mist and smoke, is only gray, and the clouds are distant 
and dusty and yellow, like those of an old landscape that 
has lain for years in a broker’s shop. Then there is a faint 
glow of sunlight shining along the houses on the northern 
side of the street; and here and there the window of some 
lobster-shop or tavern glints back the light. As we get 
farther westward, the sky overhead gets clearer, and the 
character of the thoroughfare alters. Here we are at the 
street leading up to the British Museum—a Mudie and a 
Moses on each hand—and it would almost seem as if the 
JMuseum had sent out rays of influence to create around it 
a series of smaller collections. In place of the humble fish¬ 
monger and the familiar hosier, we have owners of large 
windows filled with curious treasures of art—old-fashioned 
jewelry, china, nicknacks of furniture, silver spoons and 
kettles, and stately portraits of the time of Charles II., in 
w'hich the women have all beaded black eyes, yellow curls, 
and a false complexion, while the men are fat, pompous, 
and wigged. Westward still, and we approach the huge 
stores and warehouses of Oxford Street, where the last 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


1 I 

Avaves of fashionable life, seeking millinery, beat on the 
eastern barriers that shut out the rest of London. llegent 
Street is busy on this quiet afternoon; and Bell asks in a whis¬ 
per whether the countryman of Bltichc, now sitting behind 
us, does not betray in his eyes Avhat he thinks of this vast 
show of AV'ealth. Listening for a moment, we hear that 
(^ucen Titania, instead of talking to him about the sho]>s, 
is trying to tell him Avhat London was in the last century, 
and how Colonel Jack and his associates, before that enter¬ 
prising youth started to walk from London to Edinburgh, 
to avoid the law, used to Avaylay travellers in the fields 
between Gray’s inn and St. Pancras, and how, having robbed 
a coach betAveen Hyde Park Gate and Knightsbridge, they 
“ Aveiit over the fields to Chelsea.” This display of erudi¬ 
tion on the part of my lady has evidently been prejiared 
beforehand ; for she even goes the length of quoting dates 
and furnishing a few statistics—a thing which no woman 
does inadvertently. However, Avhen Ave get into Pall 
Mall, her ignorance of the names of the clubs reveals the 
superficial nature of her acquirements ; for even Bell is 
able to recognize the Reform, assisted, doubtless, by the 
polished pillars of the Carlton. The Avomen are, of course, 
eager to knoAV Avhich is the Prince of Wales’s Club, and 
aftei-Avards look Avith quite a peculiar interest on the brick 
Avail of Marlborough House. 

“ Noaa^,” says our Bonny Bell, as we get into the quiet 
of St. James’s Park, Avhere the trees of the long avenue and 
the shrubbery around the ponds look quite })lcasant and 
fresh even under the misty London sunlight; “ noAv you 
must let me have the reins. I am Avearying to get aAvay 
from the houses, and be really on the road to Scotland, 
Indeed, I shall not feel that Ave ha\"e actually set out until 
Ave leave Twickenham, and are fairly on the old coach-road 
at IIounsloAv.” 

I looked at Bell. She did not blush ; but calmly Avaited 
to take the reins. I had then to point out to the young 
hy])ocrite that her wiles Avere of no avail. She Avas not 
anxious to be beyond TAvickenham; she AA^as chiefly anx¬ 
ious to get down thither. NotAvithstanding that she kncAV 
Ave had chosen a capricious and roundabout road to reach 
this first stage on our journey, merely to shoAv Von Rosen 
something of London and its suburban beauties, she was 
looking Avith impatience to the long circuit by Clapham 
Common, Wimbledon, and itichmoiid Park. Therefore 


OF A PHAETON. 


15 


plic was not in a condition to be intrusted witli the safety 
of 80 valuable a freight. 

^ “ I am not impatient,” said Bell, with her color a trifle 
liei^htened: “ I do not care wdiether we ever get to 
Twickenham. I w'ould as soon go to Henley to-night, and 
to-morrow to Oxford. But it is just like a man to make a 
great bother and go in prodigious circles to reach a trifling 
distance. You go circling and circling like the minute- 
hand of a clock ; but the small hand, that takes it easy, and 
makes no clatter of ticking, finds at twelve o’clock that it 
lias got quite as far as its big companion.” 

“ This, Bell,” I remarked, “ is impertinence.” 

“ Will you give me the reins? ” 

“ No.” 

Bell turned half round, and leaned her arm on the 
lowered hood. 

“ My dear,” she said to Queen Titania—wdio had been 
telling the count something about Buckingham Palace— 
“ we have forgotten one thing. What are we to do when 
our companions are disagreeable during the day? In tlie 
evening we can read, or sing, or walk about by ourselves. 
But during the day, Tita? When we are im])risoned, how 
are we to escape ? ” 

“We shall put you in the imperial, if you are not a 
good girl,” said my lady, with a gracious sweetness; and 
then she turned to the count. 

It w^ould have been cruel to laugh at Bell. For a min¬ 
ute or two after meeting with this rebuff, she turned rather 
away from us, and stared with a fine assumption of proud 
indifference down the Vauxhall Bridge Road. But pres¬ 
ently a lurking smile began to appear about the cornei-s of 
her mouth ; and at last slie cried out,— 

“ Well, there is no use quarrelling with a married man, 
for he never jiets yoq. He is familiar with the trick of it, 
I suppose, and looks on like an old juggler watching the 
efforts of an amateur. See how lovely the river is up there 
by Chelsea !—the long reach of rippling gray, the green of 
the trees, and the curious silvery light that almost hides 
the heights beyond. We shall see the Thames often, shall 
we not ? and then the Severn, and then the Sohvay, and 
then the great Frith of the Forth ? When I think of it, I 
feel like a bird—a lark fluttering up in happiness—and see¬ 
ing farther and farther every minute. To see the Solway, 
you know, you have to be up almost in the blue ; and then 


THE STRANGE ADVENTb^RES 


]G 

all around you there rises the wide plain of England, witli 
Jields and woods and streams. Fancy being able to see as far 
as a vulture, and to go swooping on for leagues and leagues 
—now up amidst Avhite peaks of snow—or down through 
some great valley—or across the sea in the sunset. And 
only fancy that some evening you might find the spectral ship 
beginning to appear in pale fire in the mist of the horizon 
—coming on towards you without a sound—do you know, 
that is the most terrible legend ever thought of! ” 

“ What has a vulture to do with the Flying Dutchman ? ” 
said my Lady Tita, suddenly; and Bell turned with a start 
to find her friend’s head close to her own. “ You are be¬ 
coming incoherent, Bell, and your eyes are as wild as if you 
were really looking at the i)hantom ship. Why are you 
not driving ? ” 

“ Because I am not allowed,” said Bell. 

However, when we got into the Clapham Road, Bell 
had her wish. She took her place with the air of a ])rac- 
tised whip ; and did not even betray any nervousness when 
a sudden whistle behind us warned her that she was in the 
way of a tram-way car. Moreover, she managed to sub¬ 
due so successfully her impatience to get to Twickenham, 
that she was able to take us in the gentlest manner possible 
up and across Clapham Common, down through Wands¬ 
worth, and up again towards Wimbledon, When, at length 
we got to the brow of the hill that overlooks the long and 
undulating stretches of furze, the admiration of our Prus¬ 
sian friend, which had been called forth by the various 
parks and open spaces in and around London, almost rose 
to the pitch of enthusiasm. 

“ Is it the sea down there, yes ? ” he asked, looking to¬ 
wards the distant tent-poles, which certainly resembled a 
small forest of masts in the haze of the sunshine. “ It is 
not the sea? I almost expect to reach the shore always in 
England. Yet why have you so beahtiful j)laccs like this 
around London—so much more beautiful than the sandy 
country around our Berlin—and no one to come to it ? 
You have more than three millions of people—here is a 
playground—why do they not come ? And Clapham Com¬ 
mon too, it is not used for people to walk in, as we should 
use it in Germany, and have a pleasant seat in a garden, 
and the women sewing until their husbands and friends 
come in the evening, and music to make it pleasant, after¬ 
ward. It is nothing—a waste—a landscape—very beautiful 


OF A PhAETON. 


17 


—but not used. You have children on donkeys, and boys 
playing their games—that is very good—but it is not enough. 
And here, this beautiful park, all thrown away—no one 
here at all. Why does not your Lord Mayor see the—the 
requirement—of drawing away large numbers of people 
from so big a town for fresh air; and make here some 
amusements ? ” 

“ Consider the people who live all around,” said my lady, 
“ and what they would have to suffer.” 

“ Suffer! said the young Prussian, with his eyes star¬ 
ing; “I do not understand you. For people to walk 
through gardens, and smoke, and drink a glass or two of 
beer, or sit under the trees and sew or read—surely that is 
not offensive to any person. And here the houses are miles 
away—you cannot see them down beyond the windmill 
there.” 

“ Did you ever hear of such things as manorial rights, 
and freeholders, and copyholders, and the Statute of Sler- 
ton ? ” he is asked. 

“ All that is nothing—a fiction,” he retorted. “ You 
have a Government in this country representing the people ; 
why not take all these commons and use them for the people ? 
And if the Government has not courage to do that, why 
do not your municipalities, which are rich, buy up the land, 
and provide amusements, and draw the people into the 
open air ? ” 

My Lady Tita could scarce believe her ears on hearing 
a Prussian aristocrat talk thus coolly of confiscation, and 
exhibit no more reverence for the traditional rights of prop¬ 
erty than if he were a Parisian socialist. But, then, these 
boys of twenty-five will dance over the world’s edge in pur¬ 
suit of a theory. 

Here, too, as Bell gently urged our horses forward to¬ 
wards the crest of the slope leading down to Baveley 
Bridge, Von Rosen got his first introduction to an English 
landscape. All around him lay the brown stretches of sand 
and the blue-green clumps of furze of the common; on 
either side of the wide and well-made road, the tall banks 
were laden with a tangled luxuriance of brushwood and 
bramble and wild flowers; down in the hollow beneath us 
there were red-tiled farm-buildings half hidden in a green 
maze of elms and poplars; then the scattered and irregular 
fields and meadows, scored with hedges and dotted with 
houses, led up to a series of heights that were wooded with 


18 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


every variety of forest tree ; while over all these undulations 
and plains there lay that faint j)resence of mist which only 
served to soften tlie glow of the afternoon sunshine, and 
show us the strong colors of the j^icture through a veil of 
tender ethereal gray. 

We go down the hill, and roll along the valley. 

“This is the Ilohin Hood Gate,” says Queen Tita. 
“Have you heard of Uobin Jlood, Count Von Rosen ? ” 

“Oh yes. lie was one of those ]>icturesque men that 
we have many of in our German stories. We like hunts¬ 
men, outlaws, and such people ; and the German boys, they 
do know of Robin Hood as much as of William Tell.” 

“ But then, you know,” says Tita, gravely, “ Robin 
Hood was a real person.” 

“And Avas not William Tell ? ” 

“ They say not.” 

The lieutenant laughed. 

“]\[adame,” he said, “I did not knoAv you Avero so 
learned. But if there was no William Tell, are you sure 
there Avas any Robin Hood?” 

“ Oh yes, I am quite sure,” said my lady, earnestly; 
Avhich closed this chapter of j>rofound historical criticism. 

liichmond Ihirk, in the stillness of a fine sunset, av.vs 
Avorth bringing a foreigner to see. The ruddy light from 
the Avest was striking here and there among the glades 
under the oaks; across tlie bars of radiance and shadow the 
handsome little bucks and long-necked does Avere lightly 
}>as.sing and repassing; Avhile there Avere rabbits in thou¬ 
sands trotting in and about the brackens, Avith an occa¬ 
sional covey of young partridges alternately regarding us 
Avith upstretched necks and then running off a few yards 
farther. But after Ave had bowled along the smooth and 
level road, up and through the avenues of stately oaks, past 
the small lakes (one of them, beyond the shadow of a dark 
Avood, gleamed like a line of gold), and up to the summit of 
Richmond Hill, Queen Titania had not a Avord to say fur¬ 
ther in pointing out the beauties of the jdace. She had 
been officiating as conductor, but it Avas with the air of a 
])roprietress. Noav, as we stopped the phaeton on the crest 
of the hill, she Avas silent. 

Far away behind us lay the cold green of the eastern 
sky, and under it the smoke of London lay red and broAvn, 
while in the extreme distance Ave could see dim traces of 
houses, and down in the south a faint rosy mist. Some 


OF A PHAETOAr, 


19 


glittering yellow rays showed us where the Crystal Palace, 
liigh over the purple sliadows of Sydenham, caught the sun¬ 
light; and u]) by Netting Hill, too, there were one or two 
less distinct glimmerings of glass. But when we turned to 
the west, no such range of vision was permitted to us. All 
over the bed of the river there lay across the western sky 
a confused glare of j>ale gold—not a distinct sunset, with 
sharp lines of orange and blood-red tire, but a bewildering 
haze that blinded the eyes and was rather ominous for the 
morrow. Along the horizon, 

“ Where, cnlhroueJ in adamantine state, 

Proud of her bards, imperial Windsor sits," 

there was no trace of the gray towers to be made out but 
a confused and level mass of silver streaks and lines of blue. 
Nearer at hand, the spacious and wooded landscape seemed 
almost dark under the glare of the sky; and the broad 
windings of the Thames lay white and clear between the 
soft green of the Twickenham shores and the leafy masses 
of “ unbrageous Ham.” 

“ Doesn’t it seem as though the strange light away up 
there in the north and out in the west lay over some un¬ 
known country,” said Bell, with her eyes filled with the 
glamor of the sunset, “and that to-morrow we were to 
begin our journey into a great prairie, and leave houses 
and people forever behind us? You can see no more 
villages, but only miles and miles of woods and plains, until 
you come to a sort of silver mist, and that might be the 
sea.” 

“ And a certain young lady stands on the edge of this 
wild and golden desert, and a melancholy look comes into 
lier eyes. For she is fond of houses and her fellow-crea¬ 
tures, and here, just close at hand—down there, in Twick¬ 
enham, in fact—there is a comfortable dining-room and 
some pleasant friends, and one attentive person in partic¬ 
ular, who is perhaps a little sorry to bid her good-by. Yet 
she does not falter. To-morrow morning she will hold out 
her hand—a tender and wistful smile will only half convey 
her sadness—” 

Here Bell rapidly but lightly touched Pohux with the 
whij); both the horses sprung forward with a jerk that had 
nearly thrown the lieutenant into the road (for he was 
standifig up and holding on by the hood); and then, with- 


20 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


out another word, she rattled us down into Richmond. 
Getting sharply round the corner, she pretty nearly had a 
wheel taken off by the omnibus that was standing in front 
of the King’s Head, and just escaped knocking down a 
youth in white costume and boating-shoes, who jumped 
back on the pavement with an admirable dexterity. Kor 
would she stop to give us a look at the Thames from the 
bridge—we only caught a glimpse of the broad bend of tlio 
water, the various boats and their white-clad crews, the 
pleasant river-paths, and the green and wooded heights all 
around. She swejjt us on along the road leading into 
Twickenham, past the abodes of the Orleanist princes, and 
into the narrow streets of the village itself, until, with a 
])roud and defiant air, she pulled the horses up in front of 
Dr. Ashburton’s house. 

There was a young man at the window. She pretended 
not to see him. 

When the servants had partly got our luggage out, the 
young man made his appearance, and came forward, in 
rather a frightened way, as I thouglit, to pay his respects to 
my Lady Tita and Bell. Then he glanced at the Uhlan, 
who was carefully examining the horses’ fetlocks and hoofs. 
Finally,as the doctor had no stables. Master Arthur informed 
us that he had made arrangements about putting up the 
horses; and, while the rest of us went into the house, he 
volunteered to take the phaeton round to the inn. He and 
the count went of together. 

Then there was a wild commotion on the first landing, a 
confused tumble and rush downstairs, and presently Bell 
and Tita were catching up two boys and hugging them, and 
pulling out all sorts of mysterious presents. 

“ Heh! how fens tee. Jack? gayly?” cried Auntie 
Bell, whose broad Cumberlandshire vastly delighted the 
youngsters. “ Why, Twom, thou’s growing a big lad—thou 
mud as weel be a sodger as at schuil. Can tee dance a 
whornpipe yet?—what, nowther o’ ye? Dost think I’s gaun 
to gie a siller watch to twa feckless fallows that canna dance 
a whornpipe ? ” 

But here Bell’s mouth was stopped by a multitude of 
kisses; and, having had to confess that the two silver 
watches were really in her pocket, she was drawn into the 
parlor by the two boys, and made to stand and deliver. 


OF A FIIAETOJV, 


21 


CHAPTER III. 

‘‘PEINZ EUGEN, DEE EDLE EITTEB/* 

“ Wliat can Tommy Onslow do ? 

He can drive a phaeton and two. 

Can Tommy Onslow do no more ? ” 

Meanwiiile, what had become of the lieutenant and 
Arthur, and Castor and Pollux, to say nothing of the phae¬ 
ton, which had now been transferred from its accustomed 
home in Surrey to spend a night under a shed in Twichen- 
ham ? The crooked by-ways and narrow streets of that 
curious little village were getting rapidly darker under the 
falling dusk, and here and there orange lamps were begin¬ 
ning to shine in the blue-gray of the twilight, when I set 
out to discover the stable to which our horses had been con¬ 
fided. I had got but half-way to the public-house, when I 
met Arthur. The ordinarily mild and gentle face of this 
young man—w hich w'ould be quite feminine in character, 
but for a soft, pale yellow mustache—looked rather gloomy. 

“ Where is the count I asked of him. 

“ Do you mean that German fellow?” he said. 

The poor young man ! It w^as easy to detect the cause 
of that half-angry contempt with which he spoke of our 
lieutenant. It was jealousy with its green eyes and dark 
imaginings; and the evening, I could see, promised us a 
pretty s])ectacle of the farce of Bell and the Dragon. At 
present I merely requested Master Arthur to answer my 
question. 

“ Well,” said he, with a fine expression of irony—the 
unhappy wretch! as if it Avere not quite obvious that he 
Avas more inclined to cry—“ if you Avant to keep him out 
of the police-office, you’d better go down to the stables of 

the-. He has raised a pretty quarrel there, I can tell 

you—kicked the hostler half across the yard—knocked 
heaps of things to smithereens—and is ordering everybody 
about, and fuming and swearing in a dozen different inar¬ 
ticulate languages. I Avish you joy of your companion. 
You will have plenty of adventures by the wmy; but Avhat 
will you do Avith all the clocks you gather ? ” 



22 


THE STRANGE ABVENTC/RES 


“ Go home, you stupid boy, and thank God you have 
not the gift of sarcasm. Bell is waiting for you. You 
will talk very sensibly to her, I dare say; but don’t make 
any jokes—not for some years to come.” 

Arthur went his way into the twilight, as wretclied a 
young man as there was that evening in Twickenham. 

Now in front of the public-house, and adjoining the en¬ 
trance into the yard, a small and excited crowd had collected 
of all the idlers and loungers who hang about the doors of 
a tavern. In tlie middle of them—as you could see when 
tlie yellow light from tlie window streamed through a chink 
in the cluster of human figures—there was a small, square- 
set, bandy-legged man, witli a red waistcoat, a cropped 
liead, and a peaked cap, witli the peak turned sideways, 
lie was addressing his companions alternately in an odd 
mixture of Buckinghamshire patois and Middlesex pro¬ 
nunciation, somewhat in this fashion :— 

“ I baint afeard of ’m, or any other darned furrener, 

the-. An’ I’ve looked arter awsses afore he wur born, 

and I’d like to see the malm as ’ll tell me what I don’t 
know about ’m. I’ve kept my plaace for fifteen yur, and 
ril bet the coot on my bahck as my missus ’ll say, there 
niver wur a better in the plaace; an’ as fur thaht-fur¬ 

rener in there, the law ’ll teach him summut, or I’m werry 
much mistaken. Eh, Arry? Bain’t I right?” 

This impassioned appeal from the excited small man 
was followed by a general chorus of assent. 

I made my way down the yard, between the shafts of 
dog-carts, and the poles of disabled omnibuses that loomed 
from out the darkness of a long and low shed. Down at 
the foot of this narrow and dusky channel a stable-door was 
open, and the faint yellow light occasionally caught the 
figure of a man who was busy grooming a horse outside. 
As I picked my way over the rough stones I could hear 
that he was occasionally interruj)ting the hissing noise 
peculiar to the work with a snatch of a song, carelessly 
sung in a deep and sufiicieiitly powerful voice. What was 
it he sung ? 

^ ^'‘Prinz Eugen, der edle hisssssss— dem 

Kaiser %oiedrum kriegen —wo ! my beauty—so ho !— ^iadt 
und Festimg Belgarad !—hold, up, my kid ! wo ho ! ” 

“ Ilillo, Oswald, what are you about ? ” 

“ Oh, only looking after the horses,” said our youii«> 
Uhlan, slowly raising himself up. ‘ ^ 




OF A FIIAE7VN. 


23 


Tie was in a remarkable state of undress—liis coat, 
waistcoat, and collar having been thrown on tlie straw, in¬ 
side the stable—and he held in his hand a briisli. 

“ The fellows at this inn they are very ignorant of horses, 
or very careless.” 

“ 1 hear you have been kicking’em all about the place.” 

“ Why not ? You go in to liave a glass of beer and see 
the people. You come back to the stables. The man says 
he has fed the horses—it is a lie. lie says he has groonu*<l 
them—it is a lie. tTott in llimmel! can I not see? Then 
1 drive him away—I take out corn for myself, also some 
beans—he comes back—he is insolent—I fling him into the 
yard—he falls over the pail—he lies and groans—that is 
very good for him : it will teach him to mind his business, 
not to tell lies, and to steal the price of the corn.’’ 

1 pointed out to this cool young person that if he went 
kicking insolent hostlers all over the country, he would get 
us into trouble. 

“ Is it not a shame they do not know their work ? and 
that they will ruin good horses to steal a six 2 )ence from 
you, yes ? ” 

“ Besides,” I said, “ it is,not ])rudent to quarrel with an 
hostler, for you must leave your horses under his care; and 
if ho should be ill-natured, he may do them a mischief 
during the night.” 

Tlie count laughed, as ho untied the halter and led Pol 
lux into a loose box. 

“ Do not be alarmed. I never allow any man to lock 
u}) my liorses if I am among strangers. I do that myself. 
I will lock up this place and take the key, and to-morrow 
at six I will come round and see them fed. No! you must 
not object. It is a great pleasure of mine to look after 
liorses, and I shall become friends with these two in a very 
few days. You must let me manage them always.” 

“And groom them twice a day?” 

“ Nee^ Jolt bewahre! When there is a man who can do 
it, I will not; but when there is no one, it is a very good 
thing to help yourself.” 

Lieutenant Oswald Von Rosen had clearly learned how 
to conjugate the verb requiriren during ids sojourn in 
Bohemia and in France. He made another raid on the 
corn and split beans, got up into the loft and crammed 
down plenty of liay, and then bringing a heap of clean 
straw iuto the i)lace, tossed it plentifully about the loose 


21 : 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


box devoted to Pollux, and about Castor’s stall. Then he 
put on his upper vestments, brought away the candle, 
locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, humming 
all the time something about “ die dreimal hwiderttausend 
MannT 

When we had got to the gate of the yard, he stalked up 
to the small crowd of idlers, and said,— 

“ Which of you is the man who did tumble over the 
])ail ? Is it you, you little fellow? Well, you deserve 
much more than you got, yes ; but here is a half-crown for 
you to buy sticking-plaster with.” 

The small hostler held back, but his companions, wlio 
perceived that the half-crown meant beer, urged him to go 
forward and take it; which he did, saying,— 

“ Well, I don’t bear no malice.” 

“ And next time that you have gentlemen’s horses put 
into your stables, don’t try to steal the price of their corn,” 
said the lieutenant; and with that ho turned and walked 
away. 

“ Who is the gentleman who came with me ? ” asked 
my young friend, as we went back to the house ; “ he is a 
nice young man, but he does not know the difference be¬ 
tween hay and straw, and I begged him not to remain. 
And he would not drink the beer of this public-house; but 
that is the way of all you Englishmen—you are so particu¬ 
lar about things, and always thinking of your health, and 
always thinking of living, instead of living and thinking 
nothing about it. Ah, you do not know how fine a thing it 
is to live until you liave been in a campaign, my dear 
friend ; and then you know how fine it is that you can eat 
with great hunger, and how fine it is when you get a tum¬ 
bler of wine, and how fine it is to sleep. You are very glad, 
then, to be able to walk firm on your legs, and find yourself 
alive and strong. But always, I think, your countrymen 
do not enjoy being alive so much as mine; they are always 
impatient for something, trying to do something, hoping 
for something, instead of being satisfied of finding every 
day a good new day, and plenty of satisfaction in it, with 
talking to people, and seeing things, and a cigar now 
and again. Just now, when I wake, I laugh to myself, and 
say, ‘ How very good it is to sleep in a bed, and shut your¬ 
self out from noise, and get up when you please ! ’ Tlien 
you have a good breakfast, and all the day begins afresh, 
and you have no fear of being crippled and sent off to tho 


OF A PHAETON, 


25 


hospital. Oil ! it is very good to have this freedom—tliis 
carelessness—this seeing of ne\v things and new people 
everyday. And that is a very pretty young lady become, 
your Miss Bell; I do remember her only a shy little girl, 
who spoke German with your strange English way of pro¬ 
nouncing the vowels; and was very much bashful over it. 
Oh yes, she is very good-looking indeed; her hair looks as 
if there were streaks of sunshine in the light brown of it, 
and her eyes are very thoughtful, and she has a beautiful 
outline of the chin that makes her neck and throat very 
pretty. And, you know, I rather like the nose not hooked, 
like most of your English young ladies ; when it is a little 
the other way, and fine, and delicate, it makes the face 
piquant and tender, not haughty and cold, nicht wahr f 
But she is very English-looking; I would take her as a— 
as a—a—type, do you call it ?—of the pretty young En¬ 
glishwoman, well-formed, open-eyed, with good healthy 
color in her face, and very frank and gentle, and independ¬ 
ent all at the same time. Oh, she is a very good girl—a 
very good girl, I can see that.” 

“ Yes,” I said, “ I think she will marry that young fel¬ 
low whom you saw to-night.” 

“And that will be very good for him,” he replied, 
easily; “for she will look after him and give him some 
common-sense. lie is not practical; he has not seen much ; 
he is moody, and nervous, and thinks greatly about trifles. 
But I think he will be very amiable to her, and that is 
much. Y^ou know, all the best women marry stupid men.” 

There was, however, no need for our going into that 
dangerous subject; for at this moment we arrived at Br. 
Ashburton’s house. Yon Rosen rushed upstairs to his 
room, to remove the traces of his recent employment; and 
then, as we both entered the drawing-room, we found Bell 
standing right under the central gaselier, which was poring 
its rays down on her wealth of golden-brown hair. Indeed, 
she then deserved all that Yon Rosen had said about her 
being a type of our handsomest young Englishwomen—■ 
rather tall, well-formed, showing a clear complexion, and 
liealthy rosiness in her cheeks, while there was something at 
once defiant and gentle in her look. Comely enough she 
was to attract the notice of any stranger; but it was only 
those who had spent years with her, and had observed all 
her winning ways, her unselfishness, and the rare honor 
and honesty that lay behind all her petty affectations of 


26 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


petulance, who could really tell what sort of a young per¬ 
son our Bonny Bell was. She was sufficient*ly handsome 
to draw eyes towards her, 

“ But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, 

The inward beauty of her lovely spirit, 

Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, 

Much more then would ye wonder at that sight. 

* * = 5 ^ ^ * 

There dwell sweet love and constant Chastity, 

Unspotted Faith, and comely Womanhood, 

Regard of Honor, and mild Modesty.” 

And it must be said that during this evening Bell’s con¬ 
duct was beyond all praise. Arthur Ashburton was rather 
cold and distant towards her, and was obviously in a bad 
temper. He even hovered on the verge of rudeness towards 
both herself and the lieutenant. Now, nothing delighted 
Bell more than to vary the even and pleasant tenor of her 
life with a series of pretty quarrels which had very little 
element of seriousness in them; but on this evening, when 
she was provoked into quarrelling in earnest, nothing could 
exceed the good sense, and gentleness, and forbearance she 
showed. At dinner she sat between the young barrister 
and his father, a quiet, little white-haired man in spectacles, 
with small black eyes that twinkled strangely when he made 
liis nervous little jokes, and looked over to his wife—the 
very matter-of-fact and roseate woman who sat at the op¬ 
posite end of the table. The old doctor was a much more 
pleasant companion than his son; but Bell, witli wonderful 
moderation, did her best to re-establish good relations be¬ 
tween the moody young barrister and herself. Of course, 
no woman will prolong such overtures indefinitely ; and at 
last the young gentleman managed to establish a more 
serious breach than he had dreamed of. For the common 
talk had drifted back to the then recent war, and our lieu¬ 
tenant was telling us a story about three Uhlanen, who 
had, out of mere bravado, ridden down the main street of 
a French village, and out at the other end, without having 
been touched by the shots fired at them, when young Ash* 
burton added, with a laugh,— 

“ I suppose they were so padded with the watches and 
jewelry they Iiad gathered on their way that the bullets 
glanced off.” 

Count Yon Rosen looked across the table at this young 



OF A PHAETON. 


27 


man with a sort of wonder in his eyes ; and then, with ad¬ 
mirable self-control, he turned to my Lady Tita, and calmly 
continued the story. 

But as for Bell, a blush of shame and exceeding morti¬ 
fication overspread her features. No madness of jealousy 
could excuse this open insult to a stranger and a guest. 
From that moment. Bell addressed herself exclusively to 
the old doctor, and took no more notice of his son than if 
lie had been in the moon. She was deeply hurt, but she 
managed to conceal her disappointment; and indeed, when 
tlie boys came in after dinner, slie had so far picked up her 
spirits as to be able to talk to them in tliat wild way which 
they regarded with mingled awe and delight. For they 
could not understand how Auntie Bell was allowed to use 
strange words, and even talk Cumberlandshire to the doc¬ 
tor’s own face. 

Of course she plied the boys with all sorts of fruit and 
sweetmeats, until Tita, coming suddenly back from the 
campaign in France to the table before her, peremptorily 
ordered her to cease. Then Bell gathered round her the 
decanters ; the boys had their half-glass of wine ; and Bell 
swept them away with her into the drawing-room, when tlie 
women left. 

“ A very bright young lady—hm !—a very bright and 
jileasant young lady indeed,” said the doctor, stretching 
out his short legs with an air of freedom, and beginning to 
examine the decanters. “ I don’t wonder the young fel¬ 
lows rave about her; eh, Arthur, eh?” 

Master Arthur rose and left the room. 

“ Touched, eh? ” said the father, with his eyes twinkling 
vehemently, and his small gray features twisted into a 
smile. “Hit hard, eh ? Gad, I don’t wonder at it; if I 
were a young fellow myself—eh, eh? Claret? Yes. But 
the young fellows now don’t sing about their laughing La- 
lage, or drink to Glycera, or make jokes with Lydia; it is 
all dreaming, and reading, and sighing, eh, eh ? That boy 
oC mine has gone mad—heeds nothing—is ill-tempered- 

“Very much so, doctor.” 

“ Eh? Ill-tempered ? Why, his mother daren’t talk to 
Inm, and we’re glad to have him go up to his chambers again. 
Our young friend here is of another sort; there is no care 
about a woman tempering the healthy brown of the sun and 
the weather, eh?—is there, eh ? ” 

“ Why, my dear doctor,” cried the lieutenant, with a 



2S 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


]>iLKligioiis laugh, “don’t you think Lydia’s lover— Lydia, 
die, you know—he was very glad to be away from rou^h 
sports ? He had other enjoyments. I am brown, not be¬ 
cause of my wish, but that 1 have been made to work—that 
is all.” 

The doctor was overjoyed, and, perhaps, a trifle sur. 
])rised, to find that this tall Uhlan, who had just been 
grooming two horses, understood his references to Horace ; 
and he immediately cried out,— ^ 

“ No, no ; you must not lose your health, and your color, 
and your temper. Would you have your friends say of you, 
who have just been through a campaign in France,— 

“ ‘ Cur ueqiie militaris 
Inter aequales militat, Gallica nec lupatis 
Teinperat ora frenis ? ” 

Eh, eh?” 

“ Temperat ora frenis —it is a good motto for our driv¬ 
ing excursion,” said the lieutenant; “but was it your Miss 
Hell who called your two fine horses by such stupid names 
as Castor and Pollux? ” 

“Nevertheless,” said the doctor, eagerly, “ Castor was 
said to have great skill in the management of horses—eh, 
eh ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said the lieutenant. “ And both together 
they foretell good weather, which is a fine thing in driving.” 

“And they were the gods of boundaries,” cried the doc¬ 
tor. 

“ And they got people out of trouble when everything 
seemed all over,” returned the count; “which may also 
ha])})en to our phaeton.” 

“And—and—and”—here the doctor’s small face fairly 
gleamed with a joke, and he broke into a thin, high chuckfe 
•—“they ran away with two ladies—eh, eh, eh?—did they 
not, did they not? ” 

Presently we went into the drawing-room, and thei*e 
the women were found in a wild maze of maps, eagerly dis¬ 
cussing the various routes to the North, and the compara¬ 
tive attractions of different towns. The contents of Mr. 
Stanford’s shop seemed to have been scattered about the 
room, and Bell had armed herself with an opisometer, which 
gave her quite an airmf importance. 

The lieutenant was out of this matter, so he flung him¬ 
self down into an easy-chair, and presently had both of the 


PHAETON. 


21/ 


boys on nis knees, telling them stories and ^»rj[ ou.nding 
arithmetical conundrums alternately. When Queen Tita 
came to release him, the young rebels refused to go ; and 
one of them declared that the count had pi omiseil to sing 
the “ Wacht am Rhein.” 

“Oh, please, don’t, said Bell, suddenly turning round, 
with a map of Cumberland half hiding her. “You don’t 
know that all the organs here have it. But if you would be 
so very kind as to sing us a German song, I will play tlie 
accompaniment for you, if I know it, and I know a great 
many.” 

Of course, the Avomen did not imagine that a man who 
liad been accustomed to a soldier’s life, and who liad just 
betrayed a faculty for grooming horses, was likely to know 
much more of music than a handy chorus; but the count 
lightly saying he would not trouble her, went over to the 
])iano, and sat down unnoticed amidst the general hum of 
conversation. 

But the next moment there Avas sufficient silence. 
For Avith a crash like thunder,—“Hei! das klang wie 
Ungewitter!”— the young lieutenant struck the first 
chords of “Prinz Eugen,” and with a sort of upward 
toss of the head, as if he were making room for 
liimself, he began to sing Freiligrath’s picturesque soldier- 
song to the Avild and warlike and yet stately music Avhich 
Dr. Lowe has Avritten for it. What a rare voice he had, 
too, — deep, strong, and resonant—tliat seemed to throw 
itself into the daring spirit of the music Avith an absolute 
disregard of delicate graces or sentimental effect; a powerful, 
masculine, soldier-like voice, that had little flute-like softness, 
but the strength and thrill that told of a deep chest, and 
that interpenetrated or rose above the loudest chords that 
his ten fingers struck. Queen Tita’s face Avas overspread 
Avith surprise; Bell unconsciously laid down the map, and 
stood as one amazed. The ballad, you knoAv, tells hoAv one 
calm night on the banks of the Danube, just after the great 
storming of Belgrade, a young trumpeter in the camp de¬ 
termines to leave aside cards for awhile, and make a right 
good song for the army to sing; how he sets to Avork to tell 
the story of the battle in ringing verse, and at last, Avhen he 
has got Vne rhymes correct, he makes the notes too, and his 
song is complete. “ IIo, ye white troops and ye red trooi)S, 
come round and listen ! ” he cries; and then he sings the 
record of the great deeds of Prince Eugene ; and lo ! as he 


30 


{THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 

repents the nir for tlie third time, there breaks fortli, witli a 
hoarse roar as of thunder, the cliorus “ Prinz Eugen, der ed!e 
Pitter ! ” until the sound of it is carried even into the Turk¬ 
ish camp. And then the young trumpeter, not dissatisfied 
with his performance, proudly twirls his mustache ; and final¬ 
ly sneaks away to tell of his triumph to the pretty Marketen- 
ilerinn. Wlien our young Uhlan rose from the })iano, he 
laughed in an apologetic fashion ; but there was still in his 
face some of that glow and fire which had made him forget 
himself during the singing of the ballad, and which had lent 
to his voice that penetrating resonance that still seemed to 
linger about the room. Bell said “ Thank you ” in rather 
a timid way; but Queen Tita did not speak at all, and 
seemed to have forgotten us. 

We had more music that evening, and Bell produced her 
guitar, which was expected to solace us much on our journey. 
It was found tliat the lieutenant could play tliat too in a 
rough fashion ; and he executed at least a very pretty ac¬ 
companiment when Bell sung “ Der Tyroler und sein Kind.” 
But you should have seen the face of Master Arthur when 
Bell volunteered to sing a German song. I believe she did 
it to show that she was not altogether friglitened bv the 
gloomy and mysterious silence which he preserved, as he sat 
in a corner and stared at everybody. 

So ended our first day : and to-morrow—why, to-morrow 
we pass away from big cities and their suburbs, from multi¬ 
tudes of friends, late hours, and the whirl of amusements 
and follies, into the still seclusion of English country life, 
Avith its sim])le habits, and fresh pictures, and the quaint 
humors of its inns. 


[Ao^e hy Queen Titania. —“ The foregoing pages give a more or 
less accurate account of our setting-out, but they are all wrong about 
liell. Men are far worse than women in imagining love affairs, and 
supposing that girls think about nothing else. Bell wishes to he let 
alone. If gentlemen care to make themselves uncomfortable about 
her, she cannot help it ; but it is rather uvfair to drag her into any 
such complications. I om positive that, though she has doubtless a 
little pity for that young man who vexes himself and his friends be¬ 
cause he is not good enough for her, she would not be sorry to see 
him, and Count Von Kosen—and some one else besides—a,\\ start off 
on a cruise to Australia. She is quite content to be as she is. Mar¬ 
riage will come in good time ; and when it comes, she will get plenty 
of it, sure enough. In the mean time, I hope she will not be sus¬ 
pected of encouraging those idle flirtations and pretences of worship 
with which gentlemen think they ought to approach every girl whose 
good fortune it is not to be married.—T.” 


OF A F//AE7ViV. 


o 


I 


CHAPTER IV. 

AllTIIUK YxIjS^ISHES 

“ Hampton me tauglit to wish her first for mine ; 

And Windsor, alas ! doth chase me from her sight.” 

“ Rain ! ” cried Queen Titan ia, as slie walked up to tho 
window of the breakfast-room, and stared reproachfully 
out on cloudy s-kies, gloomy trees, and the wet thoroughfares 
of Twickenham. 

“Surely not!” said Bell, in anxious tones; and there¬ 
with she too walked up to one of the panes, while an ex¬ 
pression of deep mortification settled down on her face. 

She stood so for a second or two, irresolute and hurt, 
and then a revengeful look came into her eyes; she walked 
fii-mly over to my lady, got close up to her ear, and appar¬ 
ently uttered a single Avord. Tita almost jumped back ; and 
then she looked at the girl. 

“ Bell, how dare you ? ” she said, in her severest manner. 

Bell turned and shyly glanced at the rest of us, prob¬ 
ably to make sure none of us had heard ; and then, all 
this mysterious transaction being brought to a close, she 
returned to the table and calmly took up a newspaper. But 
presently she threw it aside, and glanced, with some height¬ 
ened color in her face and some half-frio^htened amusement 
in her eyes, toward Tita ; and lo ! that majestic little woman 
Avas still regarding the girl, and there Avas surprise as Avell 
as sternness in her look. 

Presently the brisk step of Lieutenant Von Rosen Avas 
iieard outside, and in a minute or tAvo the tall young man 
came into the room, Avith a fine color in his face, and a 
sprinkling of rain about his big broAvn beard. 

“ Ha! Not late ? No ? That is very good.” 

“ But it rains !” said Tita to him, in an injured Avay, as 
if any one Avho had been out of doors Avas necessarily re¬ 
sponsible for the Aveather. 

“ Not much,” he said. “It may go off ; but about six 
it did rain very hard, and I got a little Avet tl.en, I think. 

“And AAdiere Avere you at six?” said Tita, Avith fcer 
pretty broAvn eyes opened Avide. 


32 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“At Isleworth,” he said carelessly; and then he added: 
“Oh, I have done much business this morning, and bought 
something for your two boys, which will make them not 
mind that you go away. It is hard, you know, they are left 
behind—” 

“ But Bell has given them silver watches,” said mamma. 
“ Is not that enough ? ” 

“ They will break them in a day. Now, when I went to 
the stables this morning to feed the horses, the old hostler 
was there. We had a quarrel last nigljt; but no matter. 
We became very good friends—he told me much about 
Buckinghamshire and himself; he told me he did know 
your two boys; he told me he knew of a pony—oli! a very 
nice little pony—that was for sale from a gentleman in Isle- 
worth—” 

“And you’ve bought them a pony !” cried Bell, clapping 
her hands. 

“ Bell ” said Tita, with a severe look, “ how foolish you 
are ! How could you think of anything so absurd?” 

“ But she is quite right, madame,” said the lieutenant, 
“ and it will be here in an hour, and you must not tell them 
till it comes.” 

“And you mean to leave them with that animal! 
Why, they will .break their necks, both of them,” cried my 
lady. 

“ Oh no !” said the lieutenant; “ a tumble does not hurt 
boys, not at all. And this is a very quiet, small pony—oh, 
I did pull him about to try, and ho will not harm anybody. 
And very rough and strong—I think the old man did call 
1dm a Scotland pony.” 

“A Shetland pony.” 

“ Ah, very well,” said our Uhlan ; and then he began to 
turn wistful eyes to the breakfast-table. 

They sat down to breakfast, almost forgetting the rain. 
They were well pleased with the coming of the pony. It 
would be a capital thing for the boys’ health ; it would be 
this and would be that; but only one person there reflected 
that this addition to the comforts of the young rogues up¬ 
stairs would certainly cost him sixteen shillings a week all 
the year round. 

^ Suddenly, in the midst of this talk. Bell looked up and 
said,— 

“ But where is Arthur ? ” 

“ Oh,” said the mother of the young man, “ he went up 


OF A PHAEUON, 


to town this morning at eight. He took it for granted you 
would not start to-day.” 

“He might have waited to see,” said Bell, looking 
down. “I suppose he is not so very much occupied in the 
Temple. What if we have to go away before he cornea 
back?” 

“ But perhaps he won’t come back,” said Mrs. Ashbur¬ 
ton, gently. 

Bell looked surprised ; and then, with a little firmness 
about the mouth, held her peace for some time. It was 
clear that Master Arthur’s absence had some considerable 
significance in it, which she was slowly determining in her 
own mind. 

When Bell next spoke, she proposed that we should set 
out, rain or no rain. 

“It will not take much time to drive down to Henley,” 
she said. “And if we begin by paying too much attention 
to slight showers, we shall never get on. Besides, Count 
Von Rosen ought to see how fine are our English rain 
landscapes—what softened colors are brought out in the 
trees and in the grays of the distance under a dark sky. It 
is not nearly so dismal as a wet day abroad in a level coun¬ 
try, with nothing but rows of poplars along the horizon. 
Here,” she said, turning to the lieutenant, who had prob¬ 
ably heard of her recent successes in water-color, “ you have 
light mists hanging about the woods; and there is a rough 
surface on the rivers; and all the hedges and fields get dark 
and intense, and a bit of scarlet—say a woman’s cloak—is 
very fine under the gloom of the sky. I know you are not 
afraid of wet, and I know that the rest of us never got into 
such good spirits during our Surrey drives as when we were 
dashing through torrents and shaking the rain from about 
our faces; and .this is nothing—a mere passing shower—• 
and the country down by Hounslow will look very well 
under dark clouds; and we cannot do better than start at 
once for Henley ? ” 

“ What is the matter. Bell ? ” said Tita, looking at the 
girl with her clear, observant eyes. “ One would think 
you were vexed about our staying in Twickenham until to¬ 
morrow, and yet nobody has proposed that yet.” 

“ I don’t wish to w^aste time,” said Bell, looking down. 

Here the lieutenant laughed aloud. 

“ Foi-give me, mademoiselle,” he said, “ but what you 
say is very much like the English people. They are always 


34 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


luiich afraid of losing time, though it does not matter to 
tliem. I think your commercial habits have become na¬ 
tional, and got among people who have nothing to do with 
commerce. I find English ladies who have weeks and 
months at their disposal travel all night by train, and make 
themselves very wretched. Why ? To save a day, they 
tell you. I find English people, with two months holiday 
before them, undertake all the uncornforts of a night pas¬ 
sage from Dover to Calais. Why ? To save a day. IIow 
does it matter to you, for exam))le, that we start to-day, or 
to-morrow, or next week? Only that you feel you must 
be doing something—you must accomplish something—you 
must save time. It is all English. It is with your amuse¬ 
ments as with your making of money. You are never satis¬ 
fied. You are always looking forward—wishing to do or 
have certain things—never content to stop, and rest, and 
enjoy doing nothing.” 

Now what do you think our Bell did on being lectured 
in this fashion ? Say something in reply, only kept from 
being saucy by the sweet manner of lier saying it ? Or rise 
and leave the room, and refuse to be coaxed into a good 
humor for hours? Why, no. She said in the gentlest 
way,— 

“ I think you are right. Count Von Bosen. It really 
does not matter to me whether we go to-day or to-morrow. 

“ But you shall go to-day. Bell,” say I, “ even though it 
should rain Duke Georges. At four of the clock we start.” 

“ My dear,” says Tita, “ this is absurd.” 

“ Probably ; but none the less Castor and Pollux shall 
start at that hour.” 

‘•You are beginning to show your authority somewhat 
early,” says my lady, with a suspicious sweetness in her 
tone. 

“ What there is left of it,” I remark, looking at Bell, 
who descries a fight in the distance, and is all attention. 

“Count Von Rosen,” says Tita, turning in her calmest 
manner to the young man, “ what do you think of this piece 
of folly ? It may clear up long before that: it may be rain¬ 
ing heavily then. Why should we run the risk of incurring 
serious illness by determining to start at a particular hour? 
It is monstrous. It is absurd. It is—it is- 

“Well,” said the lieutenant, with an easy shrug and a 
laugh, “ it is not of much consequence you make the rule; 
for you will break it if it is not agreeable. For myself, I 



OF A PHAETON. 


35 


linve been accustomed to start at a particular liour, what¬ 
ever happens ; but for pleasure, what is the use ? ” 

“ Yes, what is tlie use ? ” repeats Titania, turning to the 
rest of us with a certain ill-concealed air of triumph. 

“ St. Augustine,” I observed to this rebellious person, 
“ remarks that the obedience of a wife to her husband is no 
virtue, so long as she does only that which is reasonable, 
just, and pleasing to herseb^” 

“ I don’t believe St. Augustine said anything of the 
kind,” replied she; “and if he did, he hadn’t a wife, and 
didn’t know what he was talking about. I will not allow 
l>ell to catch her death of cold. We shall not start at 
four.” 

“Two o’clock, luncheon. Half-past two, the moon 
enters Capricorn. Three o’clock, madness rages. Four, 
colds attack the human race. We start at four.” 

By this time breakfast was over, and all the reply that 
Tita vouchsafed was to wear a pleasant smile of defiance as 
she left the room. The count, too, went out; and in a few 
minutes we saw him in the road, leading the pony he had 
lK)ught. The boys had been kept upstairs, and were told 
nothing of the surprise in store for them ; so that we were 
j»romised a stirring scene in front of the doctor’s house. 

Presently the lieutenant arrived at the gate, and sum¬ 
moned Bell from the window. She having gone to the 
door, and spoken to him for a second or two, went into the 
house, and reappeared with a bundle of coarse cloths. Was 
the foolish young man going to groom the pony in front of 
the house, merely out of bravado ? At all events, he 
roughly dried the shaggy coat of the sturdy little animal, 
and then carefully wiped the mud from its small legs and 
hoofs. Bell went down and took the bridle; the lieutenant 
was behind, to give a push if necessary. 

“ Come up, Dick! ” she said ; and after a few frightened 
stumbles on the steps the pony stood in the doctor’s hall. 

The clatter of the small hoofs on the wax-cloth had 
brought the boys out to the first landing, and they were 
looking down with intense surprise on the appearance of 
a live horse in the house. When Bell had called them, and 
told them that the count had bought this pony for tliem, 
that it was a real pony, and that they would have to feed it 
every day, they came down the stairs with quite a fright¬ 
ened air. They regarded the animal from a distance, and 


56 THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 

tlien at last Master Jack ventured to go up and touch its 
neck. 

“ Why,” lie said, as if suddenly struck with the notion 
that it was really alive, “ I’ll get it an apple ! ” 

He went upstairs three steps at a bound ; and by the 
time he came back Master Tom had got in the saddle, and 
was for riding his steed into the breakfast room. Then he 
would ride him out into the garden. Jack insisted on lii.s 
having the apple first. The motlier of both called out from 
above that if they went into the garden in the rain slio 
would have the whole house whipped. But all the same. 
Master Tom, led by the lieutenant and followed by Bell—■ 
whose attentions in holding him on he regarded witli great 
dislike—rode in state along tlie passage, and througli tlie 
kitchen, and out by a back-door into the garden. 

“Let me go, Auntie Bell!” he said, shaking himself 
free. “ I can ride very well—I have ridden often at 
Leatherhead.” 

“ Off you go, then,” said the lieutenant: “lean well 
back—don’t kick him with your heels—off you go.” 

The pony shook his rough little mane, and started upon 
a very sedate and patient walk along the smooth path. 

“ Fist! hei! Go ahead ! ” cried Master Tom, and he 
twitched at the bridle in quite a knowing way. 

Thus admonished, the pony broke into a brisk trot, 
wliich at first jogged Master Tom on to its neck, but lie 
managed to wriggle back into the saddle and get hold of 
tlie reins again. His riding was not a masterly perform¬ 
ance, but at all events lie stuck on; and when, after 
liaving trotted thrice round the garden, he slid off of Ids 
own will and brouglit the pony up to us, his chubby round 
face was gleaming with pride, and flushed color, and rain. 
Then it was Jack’s turn ; but this young gentleman, having 
had less experience, was attended by the lieutenant, who, 
walked round the garden with him, and gave him his first 
lesson in the art of horsemanship. This was a very pretty 
amusement for those of us wlio remained under the arch¬ 
way ; but for those in the garden it was beginning to prove 
a trifle damp. Nevertheless, Bell begged hard for the boys 
to be let alone, seeing that they were overjoyed beyond ex¬ 
pression by their new toy; and it is probable that both 
they and tlieir instructor would have got soaked to the skin 
had not my Lady Titania appeared, with her face full of au 
awful wratii. 


OF A PHAETON, 


:')7 

What occurred then it is difficult to relate ; for in the 
midst of the storm Bell laughed; and the boys, being de¬ 
prived of their senses by the gift of the pony, lauglied also 
at their own mother. Titafell from her high estate directly. 
The splendors of her anger faded away from her face, and 
she ran out into the rain and cuffed the boys’ ears, and 
kissed tliem, and drove them into the house before her. 
And she was so good as to thank the count formally for his 
present; and with a kindly smile bade the boys be good 
boys and attend to their lessons when they had so much 
amusement provided for them ; and finally turned to Bell, 
and said, that as we had to start at four o’clock, we might 
as well have our things packed before luncheon. 

Now such was the reward of this wifely obedience that 
at four o’clock the rain had actually and definitely ceased; 
and the clouds, though they still hung low, were gathering 
themselves up into distinct forms. Wlien the phaeton was 
brought round, there was not even any necessity for put¬ 
ting up the hood ; and Tita, liaving seen that everything 
was placed in the vehicle, was graciously pleased to ask the 
lieutenant if he would drive, that she might sit beside him 
and point out objects of interest. 

Then she kissed the boys very affectionately, and bade 
them take care not to tumble off the pony. The doctor and 
his wife wished us every good fortune. Bell threw a wist¬ 
ful glance up and down the road, and then turned her face a 
little aside. The count shook tlie reins, and our phaeton 
rolled slowly away from Twickenham. 

“ Why, Bell,” I said, as we were crossing the railway 
bridge,aiid my companion looked round to see if there were 
a train at the station, “ you have been crying.” 

“ Not much,” said Bell, frankly, but in a very low voice. 

“ But why ? ” I ask. 

“ You know,” she said. 

“ I know that Arthur has been very unreasonable, and 
that he has gone up to London in a fit of temper; and I 
know what I think of the whole transaction, and what I 
consider he deserves. But I didn’t think you cared for 
him so much, Bell, or were so vexed about it.” 

“ Care for him ? ” she said, with a glance at the people 
before us, lest the low sound of her voice might not be en 
tirely drowned by the noise of the wheels in the muddy 
road. “ That may mean much or little. You knov/ I like 


38 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Arthur very well ; and—and I am afraid he is vexed with 
me; and it is not jdeasant to part like that with one’s 
friends.” 

“ He will write to you, Bell ; or he will drop down on 
iis suddenly some evening when we are at Oxford, or 
Worcester, or Shrewsbury-” 

“ I hope he will not do that,” said Bell, with some ex¬ 
pression of alarm. “ If he does, I know something dread¬ 
ful will happen.” 

“ But Master Arthur, Bell, is not exactly the sort of 
person to displace the geological strata.” 

“Oh, you don’t know what a temper he has at times,” 
she said; and then, suddenly recovering herself, she added, 
hastily, “ but he is exceedingly good and kind, for all that: 
only he is vexed, you know, at not being able to get on ; 
and perhaps he is a little jealous of people who are success- 
fid, and in good circumstances, and independent; and he 
is a])t to think that—that—that ” 

“His lady-love will be carried off by some wealthy 
suitor before he has been able to amass a fortune ? ” 

“You mustn’t talk as if I were engaged to Arthur Ash¬ 
burton,” said Bell, rather proudly, “ or even that I am ever 
likely to be.” 

Our Bonny Bell soon recovered her spirits, for she felt 
that we had at last.really set out on our journey to Scot¬ 
land, and her keen liking for ail out of door sights and 
sounds was now heightened by a vague and glad anticipa¬ 
tion. If Arthur Asld>urton, as I deemed highly probable, 
should endeavor to overtake us, and effect a reconcilation 
or final understanding with Bell, we were, for the present 
at least, speeding rapidly away from him. 

As we drove through the narrow lane running down by 
Whitton Park and Whitton Dean, the warm, moist winds 
were blowing a dozen odoi-s about from the far, low- 
stretching fields and gardens ; and the prevailing sweetness 
of the air seemed to herald our departure from the last 
suburban traces of London. Splash ! went the horses’ 
Iioofs into the yellow pools of the roads, and the rattle of 
the wheels seemed to send an eclio through the stillness of 
the quiet country-side ; while overhead the dark and level 
clouds became more fixed and gray, and we hoped they 
would ultimately draw together and break, so as to give us 
a glimpse of pallid sunshine. Tlien we drove up thieugh 




OF A PI/AETON'. 


Hounslow lo tlie famous inn at the cross-roads wliich was 
known to travellers in the highway-robbery days; and iiere 
our Bell complained that so many of these hostleries should 
bear her name. Tita, we could hear, was telling her com¬ 
panion of all the strange incidents connected with this inn 
and its neighborhood which she could recall from the pages 
of those various old-fashioned fictions which are much more 
interesting to some folks than the most accurate histories. 
So we bowled along the Bath road, over Cranford Bridge, 
])ast the Magpies, through Colebrook, and on to Langley 
Marsh, when the count suddenly exclaimed, 

“ But the Heath ? I have not seen Hounslow Heath, 
where the highwaymen used to be ! ” 

“ Alas! there was no more Heath to show him—only 
the level and wooded beauties of a cultivated English plain. 
And yet these, as we saw them then, under the conditions 
that Bell had described in the morning, w’ere sufficiently 
pleasant to see. All around us stretched a fertile land¬ 
scape, with the various greens of its trees and fields and 
liedges grown dark and strong under the gloom of the sky. 
The winding road ran through this country like the delicate 
gray streak of a river; and there were distant farmhouses 
j)eeping from the sombre foliage ; an occasional wayside inn 
standing deserted amidst its rude outhouses; a passing 
tramp plodding through the mire. Strange and sweet came 
the damp, warm winds from over the fields of beans and of 
clover, and it seemed as if the wild-roses in the tall and 
straggling hedges had increased in multitude so as to per¬ 
fume the whole land. And then, as we began to see in 
the west, with a great joy, some faint streaks of sunshine 
descend like a shimmering comb upon the gloomy land¬ 
scape, lo! in the south there arose before us a great and 
stately building, whose tall gray towers and spacious walls, 
seen against the dark clouds of the horizon, w^ere distant 
and pale, and spectral. 

“ It looks like a phantom castle, does it not? ” said Bell, 
speaking in quite a low voice. “ Don’t you think it has 
sprung up in the heavens like the Fata Morgana, or the 
spectiM ship, and that it will fade away again and 
disappear ? ” 

Indeed, it looked like the ghost of one of the castles of 
King Arthur’s time—that old, strange time, when England 
lay steeped in gray mists and the fogs blown about by the see- 
wiads, when there does not seem to have been any sunshine, 


40 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


but only a gloom of shifting vapors, half hiding the ghostly 
knights and the shadowy queens, and all their faint and 
mystical stories and pilgrimages and visions. The castle 
down there looked as if it had never been touched by sharp, 
clear, modern sunlight, that is cruel to ghosts and phan¬ 
toms. 

But here Bell’s reveries were interrupted by Lieutenant 
Von Rosen, who, catching sight of the castle in the south 
and all its hazy lines of forest, said,— 

“ Ah, what is that ? ” 

“ That,” said Bell, suddenly recovering from her trance, 
“ is a hotel for German princes.” 

Slie had no sooner uttered the words, however, than she 
looked thoroughly alarmed ; and with a prodigious shame 
and mortification she begged the count’s i3ardon, who 
merely laughed, and said he regretted he was not a prince. 

“ it is Windsor, is it not ? ” he said. 

“Yes,” replied Bell, humbly, while her face was still 
))ained and glowing. “I—I hope you will forgive my 
iMideness; I think I must have heard some one say that 
recently, and it escaped me before I thought what it 
meant.” 

Of course, the lieutenant passed the matter off lightly, 
as a very harmless saying; but, all the same. Bell seemed 
determined for some time after to make him amends, and 
quite took away my lady’s occupation by pointing out to 
our young Uhlan, in a very respectful and submissive man- 
. ner, whatever she thought of note on the road. Whether 
the lieutenant perceived this intention or not, 1 do not 
know; but at all events he took enormous pains to be 
interested in what she said, and paid far more attention to 
her than to his own companion. Moreover, he once or 
twice, in looking back, pretty nearly ran us into a cart, 
insomuch that Queen Tita had laughingly to recall him to 
his duties. 

In this wise we went down through the sweetly smelling 
country, with its lines of wood and hedge and its breadths of 
field and meadow still suffering from a gloom of a darkened 
sky. We cut through the village of Slough, passed the 
famous Salthill, got over the Two Mill Brook at Cuckfield 
Bridge, and were rapidly nearing Maidenhead, where we 
])roposed to rest an hour or two and dine. Bell had pledged 
her word there would be a bright evening, and luid 
thrown out vague hints about a boating excursion up to tlio 


OF A PHAETON. 


41 


wooded heights of Cliefden. In the meantime the sun had 
made little way in breaking through the clouds. There 
were faint indications here and there of a luminous grayish 
yellow lying in the interstices of the heavy sky; but the 
pale and shimmering comb in the west had disappeared. 

> “What has come over your fine weather, Bell?” said 
my lady. “ Do you remember how you used to dream of 
our setting out, and what heaps of color and sunshine you 
lavished on your pictures ? ” 

“My dear,” said Bell, “you are unacquainted with the 
art of a stage-manager. Do you think I would begin my 
])antomime with a blaze of light, and bright music, and a 
great glow of costume? No! First of all comes the 
dungeon scene—darkness and gloom—thunder and solemn 
music—nothing but demons appearing through the smoke; 
and then, when you have all got impressed and terrified 
and attentive, you will hear in the distance a little sound 
of melody, there will be a flutter of wings, just as if ihe 
fairies were preparing a surprise, and then all at once into 
the darkness leaps the queen herself, and a blaze of sunliglit 
dashes on to her silver wings, and you see her gauzy cos¬ 
tume, and the scarlet and gold of a thousand attendants 
who have all swarmed into the light.” 

“ How long have we to wait, mademoiselle ? ” said the 
lieutenant, seriously.” 

“ I have not quite settled that,” replied Bell, with a fine 
air of reflection, “ but I will see about it while you are 
liaving dinner.” 

'mnforted by these promises—which ought, however, 
to have come from Queen Titania, if the fairies were sup¬ 
posed to be invoked—we drove underneath the railway 
line and past the station of Taplow, and so forward to the 
hotel by the bridge. When, having with some exercise of 
])atience seen Castor and Pollux housed and fed, I went 
into the j)arlor, I found dinner on the point of being 
served, and tiie count grown almost eloquent about the 
comforts of English inns. Indeed, there was a considera¬ 
ble difference, as he pointed out, between the hard, bright, 
cheery public room of a German inn, and this long, low- 
roofed apartment, with its old-fashioned furniture, its car¬ 
pets, and general air of gravity and respectability. Then 
the series of pictures around the walls—venerable litho¬ 
graphs, glazed and yellow, representing all manner of wild 
adventures in driving and hunting—amused him much. 


42 


THE STRANGE A/) FEN TERES 


“ Tiiat is very like your English humor,” ho saul—“ of 
the country, I moan. Tlie joke is a man thrown into a 
ditch, and many horses coming over on him ; or it is a car¬ 
riage upset in tlie road, and men crawling from underneath, 
and women trying to get througli the window. It is 
rougli, strong, practical fun, at the expense of unfortunate 
people, that you like.” 

“ At least,” I point out, “ it is quite as good a sort of 
public-house furniture as pictures of bleeding saints, or 
lithographs of smooth-headed princes.” 

“ Oh, I do not object to it,” lie said, “not in the least. 
I do like your sporting pictures very much.” 

“And when you talk of German lithographs,” struck in 
Bell, quite warmly, “ I suppose you know that it is to the 
German print-sellers our poorer classes owe all the posses¬ 
sion of art they can afford. They would never have a pic¬ 
ture in their house but for those cheap lithographs that 
come over from Germany ; and although they are very bad, 
and even carelessly bad often, they are surely better than 
nothing for cottages and country inns, that would never 
otherwise have anything to show but coarse patterns of wall 
paper.” 

“ My dear child,” remarked Queen Tita, “ we are none 
of us accusing Germany of any crimes whatever.” 

“But it is very good-natured of mademoiselle to defend 
my country, for all that,” said the lieutenant, with a smile. 
“ We are unpopular with you just now, I believe. That I 
cannot help. It is a pity. But it is only a family quarrel, 
you knovv, and it will go away. And just now, it requires 
some courage to say a word for Germany, yes ? ” 

“Why, Bell has been your bitterest enemy all tlirough 
the war,” said Tita, ashamed of the defection of her ancient 
ally. 

“I think you behaved very badly to the poor French 
people,” said Bell, looking down, and evidently wishing 
that some good spirit or bad one would fly away with this 
embarrassing toi)ic. 

The spirit appeared. There came to the open space in 
front of the inn a young girl of about fifteen or sixteen, 
with a careworn and yet liealthily colored face, and shrewd 
blue eyes. She wore a man’s jacket, and she had a shilla- 
lah in her hand, which she twirled about as she glanced at 
the windows of the inn. Then, in a hard, cracked voice, 
she began to sing a song. It was supposed to be rather a 


OF A PHAETON, 


43 


dasliing and aristocratic ballad, in Avhicli this oddly clad 
girl with the shillalah recounted her experiences of the 
opera, and told us how she loved champagne, and croquet, 
and various other fashionable diversions. There was some- 
thing very curious in the forced gayety with which she 
entered into these particulars, the shillalah meanwhile being 
kept as still as circumstances would permit. But presently 
she sung an Irish song, describing herself as some free-and- 
easy Irish lover and tighter; and here the bit of wood came 
into play. She thrust one of her hands, with an audacious 
air, into the pocket of the jacket she wore, while she twirled 
the shillalah with the other; and then, so soon as she had 
finished, her face dropped into a plaintive and matter-of- 
fact air, and she came forward to receive pence. 

“ She is scarcely our Lorelei,” says the count, “ who sits 
oyer the Rhine in the evening. But she is a hard-working 
girl, you can see that. She has not much pleasure in life. 
If we give her a shilling, it will be much comfort to her.” 

And with that he went out. But what was Tita’s sur¬ 
prise to seo him go up to the girl and begin to talk to her! 
She, looking up to the big, brown-bearded man with a sort 
of awe, answered his questions with some appearance of 
shamefaced embarrassment: and then, when he gave her a 
piece of money, she performed something like a courtesy, 
and looked after him as lie returned whistling to the door 
of the inn. 

Then we had dinner—a plain, comfortable, wholesome 
meal enough ; and it seemed somehow in this old-fashioned 
parlor that we formed quite a family party. We were cut 
off at last from the world of friends and acquaintances, and 
thrown upon each other’s society in a very peculiar fashion. 
In what manner should we sit down to our final repast, 
after all this journey and its perils and accidents were over ? 
Tita, I could see, was rather grave, and perhaps speculating 
on the future ; while Bell and the young lieutenant had got 
to talk of some people they recollected as living at Bonn 
some dozen years before. Nobody said a word about Ar¬ 
thur. 


44 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CHAPTER V. 

QUEEN TITANIA AFLOAT. 

‘ Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen 
Full many a sprightly race, 

Disporting on thy margent green, 

The paths of pleasure trace, 

AVho foremost now delight to cleave 
With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? 

At length we hit upon one thing that Count Von Rosen 
could not do. When we had wandered down to the side 
of the Thames, just by Maidenhead Bridge, and opi)osite 
the fine old houses, and smooth lawns, and green banks 
that stand on the other margin of the broad and shallow 
river, we discovered that the lieutenant was of no use in a 
boat. And so, as the young folks would have us go up 
under the shadows of the leafy hills of Cliefden, there was 
nothing for it but that Tita and I should resort to the habits 
of earlier years and show a later generation hovv to feather 
an oar with skill and dexterity. As Queen Titania stood 
by the boathouse, pulling off her gloves with economic fore¬ 
thought, and looking rather pensively at the landing-place 
and the boats and the water, she suddenly said,— 

“ Is not this like long ago ? ” 

“You talk like an old woman, Tita,” says one of the 
party. “ And yet your eyes are as pretty as they were a 
dozen years ago, when you used to walk along the beach at 
Eastbourne, and cry because you were afraid of becoming 
the mistress of a house. And now the house has been too 
much for you; and you are full of confused facts, and un¬ 
intelligible figures, and petty anxieties, until your responsi¬ 
bilities have liidden away the old tenderness of your look, 
except at such a moment as this, when you forget yourself. 
Tita, do you remember who pricked her finger to sign a 
document when she was only a schoolgirl, and who pro¬ 
duced it years afterward with something of a shamefaced 
l)ride ? ” 

“ Stuff!” says Tita, angrily, but blushing dreadfully all 


OF A PHAETOy 45 

the same ; and so, witli a frown and an imperious manner, 
she stepped down to the margin of the river. 

Xow mark this circumstance. In the old days of whicli 
my lady was then thinking, she used to be very well con¬ 
tent witli pulling bow-oar when we two used to go out in 
the evenings. Now, when the lieutenant and Bell had been 
comfortably placed in tlie stern, Tita daintily stepped into 
tlie boat and sat down quite naturally to pull stroke. Slie 
made no apology. She took the place as if it were hers by 
right. Such are the changes which a few years of married 
life produce. 

So Bell pulled the white tiller-ropes over her shoulder, 
and we glided out and up the glassy stream, into that world 
of greenness and soft sounds and sweet odors that lay all 
around. Already something of Bell’s prophecy was likely 
to come true; for the clouds were perceptibly growing 
thinner overhead, and a diffused yellow light falling from 
no particular place seemed to dwell over the hanging woods 
of Cliefden. It gav^e a new look, too, to the smooth river, 
to the rounded elms and tall poplars on the banks, and tlie 
long aits beyond the bridge, where the swans were sailing 
close in by the reeds. 

“ Look out! ” cried the lieutenant, suddenly; and at the 
same moment our coxswain, without a word of warning, 
shot us into a half-submerged forest that seemed to hide 
from us a lake on the other side. Tita had so little time to 
ship her oar that no protest was possible; and then You 
Rosen, catching hold of the branches, pulled us through tiie 
narrow channel, and lo! we were in a still piece of water, 
with a smooth curve of the river-bank on one side and a 
long island on the other, and with a pretty little house look¬ 
ing quietly down at us over this inland sea. We were still 
in the Thames; but this house seemed so entirely to have 
become owner of the charming landscape around and its 
stretch of water in front, that Bell asked in a hurry how 
we could get away. Tita, being still a little indignant, an¬ 
swered not, but put her oar into the outrigger again, and 
commenced pulling. And then our coxswain, who was not 
so familiar with the tricks of the Thames at Maidenhead 
as some of us, discovered a northwest passage by which it 
was possible to return into the main channel of the stream, 
and we continued our voyage. 

When, at length, we had got by the picturesque old mill 
and reached the sea of tumbling white water that came. 


46 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


rushing down from the weir, it seemed as though tiie shy 
had entered into a compact with Bell to fulfil her predic¬ 
tions. For as we lay and rocked in the surge—watching 
the long level line of foam come tumbling over in spouts 
and jets and white masses, listening to the roar of tlie fall, 
and regardingthe swirling circles of white bells that swept 
away downward on the stream—there appeared in the west, 
just over the line of the weir, a parallel line of dark blood- 
red. It was but a streak as yet; but presently it 'widened 
and grew more intense—a great glow of crimson color came 
shining forth—and it seemed as if all the western heavens, 
just over that line of white foam, were becoming a mass of 
fire. Bell’s transformation-scene was positively blinding; 
and the bewilderment of the splendid colors was not less¬ 
ened by the roar of the tumbling river, that seemed 
strangely wild in the stillness of the evening. 

But when we turned to drop quietly down the stream, 
the scene around us was so lovely that Queen Titania had 
no heart to pull away from it. For now the hanging woods 
of beech and birch and oak had caught aglow^of the sunset 
along their masses of yellow and green, and the broad stream 
had the purple of its glassy sw^eeps dashed here and there 
with red; and in the far east a reflected tinge of ])ink 
mingled with the cold green, and lay soft and pure and 
clear over the low wmods and the river and the bridge. As 
if by magic, the wmrld had growm suddenly light, ethereal, 
and full of beautiful colors; and the clouds tliat still re¬ 
mained overhead had parted into long cirrous lines, 'with 
pearly edges, and a touch of scarlet and gold along their 
western side. 

“ What a drive we shall have this evening! ” cried Bell. 
“It will be a clear night when 'v\^e get to Henley, and there 
W'ill be stars over the river, and perhaps a moon—who 
know^s? ” 

“I thought you 'would have provided a moon, ma¬ 
demoiselle,” said the lieutenant, gravely, “ You have done 
very well for us this evening—oh ! very 'well indeed. I 
liave not seen any such beautiful picture for many years. 
You did very well to keep a dark day all day, and make us 
tried of cold colors and green trees; and then you surprise 
us by this picture of magic—oh ! it is very well done.” 

“All that it wants,” said Bell, with a critical eye, “ is 
a little woman in a scarlet shawl under the trees there, and 
over the green of the rushes—one of those nice fat little 


OF A PHAETON. 


47 


women who always wear bright shawls just to please land¬ 
scape painters—making a little blob of strong color, you 
know, just like a lady-bird among green moss. Do you 
know, I am .quite grateful to a pleasant little countrywoman 
when she dresses herself ridiculously merely to make a 
landscape look fine; and how can you laugh at her when 
she comes near ? I sometimes think that she wears those 
colors, especially those in her bonnet, out of mere modesty. 
Slie loes not know what will please you—she puts in a 
litt e of everything to give you a choice. She holds up to 
you a whole bouquet of flowers, and says, ‘ Please, miss, 
<lo you like blue? for here is corn-cockle ; or red ? for here 
are poppies ; or yellow ? for here are rock-roses.’ She is like 
Perdita, you know, going about with an armful of blossoms, 
and giving to every one what she thinks will please them.” 

“ My dear,” says Tita, “ you are too generous. I am 
afraid that the woman wears those things out of vanity. 
Slie does not know what color suits her complexion best, 
and so wears a variety, quite sure that one of them must 
be the right one. And there are plenty of women in town, 
as well as in the country, wiio do that too.” 

“ I hope you don’t mean me,” said Bell, contritely, as 
she leaned her arm over the side of the boat and dipped 
the tips of her Angers into the glassy stream. 

But if we were to get to Henley that night, there was 
no time for lingering longer about that bend by the river, 
with its islands and mills and woods. That great burst of 
color in the west had been the expiring effort of the sun ; 
and when we got back to the inn, there was nothing left in 
the sky but the last golden and crimson traces of his going 
down. The river was becoming gray, and the Cliefden 
woods were preparing for the night by drawing over them¬ 
selves a thin veil of mist, which rendered them distant and 
shadowy, as they lay under the lambent sky. 

The phaeton was at the door; our bill paid; an extra 
shawl got out of the imperial—-although, in that operation, 
the lieutenant nearly succeeded in smashing Bell’s guitar. 

“ It will be dark before we get to Henley,” says Tita. 

“ Yes,” I answer, obediently. 

“ And we are going now by cross-roads,” she remarks. 

“ The road is a very good one,” I venture to reply. 

‘, But still it is a cross-road,” slie says. 

“Very well, then, my dear,” I say, wondering what the 
little woman is after. 


4S 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“You must drive,” she continues, “for none of us 
know the road. 

“Yes, m’m, please, m’m : any more orders ? ” 

“ Oh, Bell,” says my lady, with a gracious air (she can 
change the expression of her face in a second), “ would you 
mind taking Count Yon Rosen under your charge until we 
get to Henley ? I am afraid it will take both of us to find 
the road in the dark.” 

“ Ho, I will take you under my charge, mademoiselle,” 
said the lieutenant, frankly ; and therewith he helped Bell 
into the phaeton, and followed himself. 

The consequence of this little arrangement was, that 
while Tita and I were in front, the young folks were be¬ 
hind ; and no sooner had we started from the inn, got 
across the bridge, and were going down the road towai-ds 
the village of Maidenhead proper, than Titania says, in a 
very low voice,— 

“ Do you know, my dear, our pulling together in that 
boat quite brought back old times; and—and—and I 
wanted to be sitting up here beside you for a while, just to 
recall the old, old drives we used to have, you know, about 
here, and Henley, and Reading. How long ago is it, do vou 
think?” 

That wife of mine is a wonderful creature. You would 
have thought she was as innocent as a lamb when she ut¬ 
tered these words, looking up with a world of sincerity and 
pathos in the big, clear, earnest brown eyes. And the 
courage of the small creature, too, who thought she could 
deceive her husband by this open, transparent, audacious 
piece of hypocrisy ! 

“Madam,” I said, with some care that the young 
folks should not overhear, “your tenderness overwhelms 
me.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” she says, suddenly, becom¬ 
ing as cold and as rigid as Lot’s wife after the accident hap¬ 
pened. 

“Perhaps,” I ventured to suggest, “you would like to 
have the hood up, and so leave them quite alone? Our 
presence must be very embarrassing.” 

“ You are insulting Bell in saying such things,” she says, 
warmly ; “ or perhaps it is that you* would rather have her 
for a companion than your own wife.” 

“Well, to tell you the truth, I would.” 

“ She shall not sit by the lieutenant again.” 


OF A PHAETON 




“ I liopo yon don’t mean to strangle her. We slioiild 
arrive in Edinburgh in a sort of unicorn fashion.” 

Tit a relapsed into a dignified silence—that is always the 
way with her when she has been found out; but she Avas 
probably satisfied by hearing the Count and Bell chatting 
yery briskly together, thus testifying to the success of her 
pett} stratagem. 

It was a pleasant driye, on that quiet eyening, from 
Maidenhead across the lonely country that lies within the 
great curye of the Thames. Instead of turning off at the 
corner of Stubbing’s Heath, and so getting into the road 
that runs by Hurley Bottom, we held straight on towards 
Wargraye, so as to haye the last part of the journey lead us 
up by the side of the river. So still it was ! The road led 
through undulating stretches of common and past the edges 
of silent woods, while the sky Avas becoming pale and beau¬ 
tiful overhead, and the heights on the nortliern horizon— 
betAveen Cookham and Hurley—were groAving more and 
more visionary in the dusk. Sometimes, but rarely, we met 
a solitary wanderer coming along through the twilight, and 
a gruff “ good-night ” greeted us ; but for the most part 
there seemed no life in this lonely part of the country, Avhere 
rabbits ran across the road in front of us, and tlielast rooks 
that fleAv by in the dusk seemed hastening on to the neigh¬ 
borhood of some distant village. It Avas a mild, fresh even¬ 
ing, Avith the air still damp and odorous after the rain ; but 
ovei-head the sky still remained clear, and here and there, 
in the partings of the thin cloud, a pale star or planet liad 
become faintly visible. 

At last Ave got doAvn into the village of Wargrave, and 
then it was nearly dark. There were a feAV people, mostly 
women, standing at the doors of the cottages ; and here and 
thei-e a ray of yelloAV light gleamed out from a small win 
doAV. As we struck into the road that runs parallel Avith 
the Thames, there Averemen coming home from their Avork , 
and their talk was heard at a great distance in the stillness 
of th ) night. 

“How far are we from Henley?” said Bell. 

“Are you anxious to get there?” replied Queen 
Titania, smiling quite benignly. 

“ No” said Bell, “ this is so pleasant that I should like 
to go di'iving on until midnight, and we could see the moon 
coming through the trees.” 

“ You have to consider the horses,” said the lieutenant. 


50 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


bluntly. “If you do tire them too much on the first day 
they will not go so long a journey. But yet we are some 
way off, I suppose ; and if mademoiselle will sing some¬ 
thing for us, I will get out the guitar.” 

“ You’d better get down and light the lamps, rather,” 
I remark to those indolent young people; whereupon the 
count was instantly in the road, striking wax matches, and 
making use of curious expressions that seemed chiefly to 
consist of and r’s. 

So, with the lamps flaring down the dark road, we rolled 
along the highway that here skirts the side of a series 
of heights looking down into the Thames. Sometimes we 
could see a gray glimmer of the river beneath us through 
the trees; at other times the road took us down close to 
the side of the water, and Castor got an o])portunity of 
making a playful little shy or two ; but for tlie most part 
we drove through dense woods that completely shut off 
the starlight overhead. 

More than once, indeed, we came to a steep descent 
that was buried in such total darkness that the lieutenant 
jumped down and took the horses’ heads, lest some un¬ 
lucky step or stumble should throw us into the river. So 
far as we could make out, however, there was a sufficient 
wall on the side of the highway next the stream—a rough 
old wall, covered with plants and moss, that ran along the 
high and wooded bank. 

Suddenly Bell uttered a cry of delight. We had come 
to a cleft in the glade which showed us the river running 
by some sixty feet beneath us, and on the surface of the 
water the young crescent of the moon was crearly mir¬ 
rored. There was not enough moonlight to pierce the trees, 
or even to drown the pale light of the stars ; but the sharp 
disk of silver, as it glimmered on the water, was sufficiently 
beautiful, and contained in itself the promise of many a 
lovely night. 

“ It has begun the journey with us,” said Bell. “ It 
is a young moon ; it will go with us all the month ; ami 
we sliall see it on the Severn, and on Windermere, and on 
tlie Solway, and on the Tweed. Didn’t I promise you all 
a moon, sooner or later ? And there it is! ” 

“ It does not do us much good. Bell,” said the driver, 
ruefully, the very horses seeming afraid to plunge into the 
gulfs of darkness that were spectrally peered into by the 
light of the lamps. 


OF A PHAETON. 


51 


“ Tlie moon is not for use,” said Bell, “ it is for magic; 
and once we have got to Henley, and put the horses up, and 
gone out again to the river, you shall all stand back and 
watch in a corner, and let Queen Titania go forward to 
summon the fairies. And as you listen in the dark, you 
will hear a little crackling and rustling along the opposite 
shore, and you will see small blue lights come out from the 
banks, and small boats, with a glowworm at their prow, 
come out into the stream. And then from the boats, and 
from all the fields near—where the mist of the river lies at 
night—you will see wonderful small men and women of 
radiant blue flame come forward, and there will be a strange 
sound like music in the trees, and the river itself will begin 
to say, in a kind of laugh, “ Titania., Titania ! you ham 
been so long away—years and years—looking after servants 
and the schooling of boys, and the temper of a fractious 
husband —’ ” 

“ Bell, you are impertinent.” 

“ There are true words spoken in jest, sometimes,” says 
Titn, with a dainty malice. 

“ Your bearing-rein in England is a cruelty to the horse 
—you must take it away to-morrow,” said the lieutenant; 
and this continuation of a practical subject recalled these 
sca])egraces from their jibes. 

Here the road took us down by a gradual dip to the 
river again, and for the last mile before reaching our des¬ 
tination we had a pleasant and rapid run along the side of 
the stream. Then the lights of Henley were seen to glimmer 
before us : we crossed over the bridge, and swerving round 
to the night, drove into the archway of the Bell Inn. 

“ No, sir,” remarked Dr. Johnson to Mr. Boswell, 
“there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, “by 
which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern 
or inn.” He then repeated with great emotion, we are told, 
Shell stone’s lines, 

“ Whoe’er has travelled life’s dull round. 

Where’er his stages may have been, 

May sigh to think he still has found 
The warmest welcome at an inn.” 

And Mr. Boswell goes on to say: “We happened to 
lie this night at the inn at Henley, where Shenstone wrote 
these lines.” Now, surely, if ever belated travellers had 
reason to expect a cordial welcome, it was we four as we 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


52 

drove into tlie famous liostlery which had awakened en- 
Ihnsiasm in tlie poets and lexicographers of by-gone days. 
I>ut as Castor and Pollux stood under the archway, look- 
ing into the great dark yard before them, and as we gazed 
round in vain for the appearance of any waiter or other 
official, it occurred to Tita that the Bell Inn must have 
clianged hands since Shenstone’s time. Where was our 
comfortable welcome? A bewildered maid-servant came 
to stare at our phaeton with some alarm. Plaintive howls 
for the hostler produced a lad from the darkness of the 
stables, who told us that the hostler was away somewhere. 
Another maid-servant came out, and also looked alarmed. 
The present writer, fearing that Tony Lumpkin, trans¬ 
formed into an invisible spirit, had played him a trick, 
humbly begged this young woman to say whether he had 
driven by mistake into a private house. The young per¬ 
son looked afraid. 

“ My good girl,” says Tita, with a gracious condescen¬ 
sion, “ will you tell us if this is the Bell Inn ? ” 

“Yes, ’m; of course, ’m.” 

“ And can we stay here to-night? ” 

“ Pll bring the waiter, ma’am, directly.” 

Meanwhile the lieutenant had got down, and was fuming 
about the yard to rout out the hostler’s assistants, or some 
jieople who could put up the horses. He managed to un¬ 
earth no fewer than three men, whom he brought in a gang. 
He was evidently determined not to form his grooming of 
the horses at Twickenham into a precedent. 

At last there came a waiter, looking rather sleepy and 
a ti-ifle helpless; whereupon my lady and Bell departe<l 
into the inn, and left the luggage to be sent after them. 
There appeared to be no one inside the house. The gases 
Avere lighted in the spacious coffee-room ; some rugs and 
bags Avere brought in and placed on the table; and then 
Tita and her companion, not daring to remove their bon¬ 
nets, sat down in arm-chairs and stared at each other. 

“ I fly from pomp, I fly from plate ; 

I fly from falsehood’s specious grin ; 

But risk a ten times worser fate 
Ill choosing lodgings at an inn : ” 

—this was AV’hat Bell repeated, in a gentle voice, on the 
very spot that is sacred to the memory of Shenstone’s satis 
faction. 


OF A PHAETON. 


53 


I requested t]ie young man in the wliite tie to assign 
some reason for 1 his state of affairs; and his answer was 
immediately forthcoming. There had been a regatta a few 
days before. The excitement in the small town, and more 
especially in The Bell, had been dreadful. Now a reaction 
had set in ; Henley and The Bell were alike deserted; and 
we were the victims of a collapse. I complimented the 
waiter on his philosophical acumen, and went out to see 
what had befallen Count Von Rosen and the horses. 

I found him standing in a stable that was dimly lighted 
by a solitary candle stuck against the wall, superintending 
the somewhat amateurish operations of the man who had 
undertaken to supply the hostler’s place. The lieutenant 
had evidently not been hectoring his companions; on the 
contrary, he was on rather good terms with them, and was 
making inquiries about the familiar English names for 
chopped hay and other luxuries of the stable. He was ex- 
aming the corn, too, and pronouncing opinion on the split 
beans which he had ordered. On the whole, he was satis¬ 
fied with the place ; although he expressed his surprise that 
the hostler of so big an inn should be absent. 

When, at length, he had seen each of the hoi'ses supplied 
with an ample feed, fresh straw, and plenty of hay, the men 
were turned out and the stable-door locked. He allowed 
them on this occasion to keep the key. As we crossed the 
yard, a rotund, frank, cheery-looking man appeared, who 
was presumably the hostler. He made a remark or two; 
but the night air was chill. 

“Now,” said Von Rosen, when we got into the big 
parlor, “ we have to make ourselves pleasant and comfor¬ 
table. I do think we must all drink whiskey. For myself, 
I do not like the taste very much ; but it looks very com¬ 
fortable to see some people with steaming glasses before 
them. And I have brought out mademoiselle’s guitar, and 
she will sing us some songs, yes?” 

“ But you must also,” says Bell, looking down. 

“ Oh, a hundred ! a thousand! as many as you like! ” ho 
said; and then, with a sort of sigh, he took his cigar-case 
out of his pocket and laid it pathetically on the mantel¬ 
piece. There was an air of renunciation in his face. Forth¬ 
with he rung the bell; and the waiter was asked to bring 
us certain liquors which, although not exclusively whiskey, 
could be drunk in those steaming tumblers which the lieu¬ 
tenant loved to see. 


54 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Oh, come you from Newcastle ? ’’ 

—tliis was what Bell sung, with the blue ribbon of her 
guitar slung round her neck,— 

“ Oh, come jmu from Newcastle ? ” 

Come you not there away ? 

And did you meet my true-love, 

Riding on a bonny bay ? 

And as she sung, with her eyes cast down, the lieutenant 
seemed to be regarding her face with a peculiar interest. 
He forgot to lift the hot tumbler that was opposite him on 
the table—he had even forgotten Tita’s gracious permis¬ 
sion that he might have a cigar—he was listening and gaz¬ 
ing merely, in a blank silence. And when she had finished, 
he eagerly begged her to sing another of the old English 
songs. And she sung,— 

“ O mistress mine, where are you roamirg ? 

O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? 

O stay and hear, your true-love's coming, 

That can sing both high and low.” 

And when she had finished, he once more eagerly begged 
her to sing another of those old songs; and then, all of a 
sudden, catching sight of a smile on my lady's face, he 
stopped and apologized, and blushed ratlier, and said it was 
too bad—that he had forgotten, and would himself try 
something on the guitar. 

When, at length, the women had gone up-stairs, he 
fetched down his cigar from the mantelpiece, lighted it, 
stretched out his long legs, and said,— 

“ How very English she is ! ” 

“She! who?” 

“ Why, your Miss Bell. I do like to hear her talk of 
England as if she had a pride in it, and mention the names 
of towns as if she loved them because they were Englisli, 
and speak of the fairies and stories as if she was familie.r 
with them because they belong to her own country. You 
can see how she is fond of everything that is like old times 
—an old house, an old milestone, an old bridge—every¬ 
thing that is peculiar and old and English. And then she 
sings, oh, so very well—so very well indeed ! and these old 
songs, about English places and English customs of village- 
life, they seem to suit her very well, and you think she her- 


OF A PITA E TO AT. 


55 

self is the heroine of them. But as for that young man in 
Tvvickenliam^ he is a very pitiful fellow.” 

“ How have you suddenly come to that conclusion ? I 
inquire of our lieutenant, who is lazily letting the cigar- 
smoke curl about his mustache and beard as he lies back 
and fixes his light-blue eyes contemplatively on the ceiling. 

“ How do I know? I do not know: I think so. He 
ought to be very well satisfied of knowing a young lady 
like that—and very proud of going to marry her—instead 
of annoying her with bad tempers.” 

“That is true. A young man under such circumstances 
cannot be too grateful or too amiable. They are not al¬ 
ways so, however. You yourself, for example, when you 
parted from Fraulein Fallersleben-” 

Here the lieutenant jumped up in his chair, and said, 
with unnecessary vehemence,— 

“ Donnerwetter! look at the provocation I had ! It was 
not my ill-temper; I am not more ill-tempered than other 
men : but wlien you know you mean very well, and that 
you treat a woman as perhaps not all men would be in¬ 
clined to do in the same case, and she is a hypocrite, and 
she pretends mucli, and at the same time she is writing to 
you, she is—pfui! I cannot speak of it! ” 

“ You very fond of her.” 

“ Worse luck.” 

“ And you liad a great fight, and used hard words to 
eacli other, and parted so that you would rather meet Beel¬ 
zebub than her.” 

“ Why, yes, it is so ; I would rather meet twenty Beel- 
zebubs than her.” 

“ That is the way of you boys. You don’t know that 
in after-years, when all these things have got smooth and 
misty and distant, you will come to like her again ; and 
wliat will you think then of your hard words and your 
quarrels? If you children could only understand how very 
short youth is, how very long middle age is, and how very 
dull old age is—if you could only understand how the chief 
occupation of the longer half of your life is looking back 
on the first short half of it, you would know the value of 
storing up only pleasant recollections of all your old 
friends. If you find that your sweetheart is a woman com- 
j)elled by her nature to fall in love with the man nearest 
her, and forget him who is out of the way, \vhy devote 
her to the infernal gods? In after-years you will be grate- 



5G 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


fill to her for the pleasant days and weeks you spent with 
her, when you were both happy together, and you will look 
back on the old times very tenderly ; and then, on those 
occasions when you German folks drink to the health of 
your absent dear ones, won’t you be glad that you can in¬ 
clude her who was dear enough to you in your youth ? ” 

“That is very good; it is quite true,” said the lieuten¬ 
ant, in almost an injured tone—as if Fraulein Fallersleben 
were responsible. 

“ Look for a moment,” I say to my pensive pupil, “ at 
the pull a man has who has spent his youth in pleasant 
scenery. When he gets old, and can do nothing but live 
the old life over again by looking back, he has only to shut 
his eyes, and his brain is full of fresh and bright pictures of 
the old times in the country ; and the commonest landscape 
of his youth he will remember then as if it were steeped in 
sunlight.” 

“ Tliat is quite true,” said Yon Rosen, thoughtfully ; but 
the next moment he uttered an angry exclamation, started 
up from his chair, and began walking up and down the 
room. 

“ It is all very well,” he said, with an impatient vehe¬ 
mence, “ to be amiable and forgiving when you are old— 
because you don’t care about it, that is the reason. When 
you are young, you expect fair play. Do you think if I 
should be seventy I will care one brass farthing whether 
Pauline—that is, Fraulein Fallersleben—was honest or no? 
I will laugh at the whole affair then. But now, when you 
are ashamed of the deceit of a woman, is it not right you 
tell her ? is it not right she knows what honest men and 
women think of her, yes ? What will she think of you if 
you say to her, ^Farewell^ Fraulein? You have behaved 
not very well; but I am amiable; I will for give you F"* 

“ There, again : you parted with her in wrath, because 
you did not like to appear weak and complaisant in her 
eyes.” 

“ At all events, I said what I felt,” said the lieutenant, 
warmly. “ I do think it is only hypocrisy and selfishness 
1.) say, ‘ I hate this woman, but Twill be kind to her, because 
when Igr 010 old I will look back and consider myself to have 
been very good? ” 

“ You have been deeply hit, my poor lad ; you are quite 
fevered about it now. You cannot even see how a man’s 
own self-respect will make him courteous to a woman whom 


OF A PHAETON. 


57 


lie despises ; and is he likely to be sorry for tliat courtesy 
wlien he looks at it in cold blood and recognizes the stupen¬ 
dous fact that the man who complains of the inconstancy 
of a woman utters a reflection against Providence ? ” 

“ But you don’t know—you don’t know,” said the count, 
pitching his cigar into the grate, “what a woman this one 
showed herself to be. After all, it does not matter. But 
when I look at such a woman as your Miss Bell here—” 

“ Yes : when you look at her ? ” 

“ Why, I see the difference,” said the lieutenant, 
gloomily ; and therewith he pulled out another cigar. 

I stopped this, however, and rung for candles. As ho 
lighted his in rather a melancholy fasliion, he said,— 

“ It is a very good thing to see a woman like that— 
young-hearted, frank, honest in her eyes, and- full of pleas¬ 
antness, too, and good spirits—oh! it is very fine indeed, 
merely to look at her; for you do believe that she is a vei-y 
good girl, and you think there are good women in the world. 
But as for that young man at Twickenham—” 

“ Well, what of him ? ” 

The lieutenant looked up from the candle, but saw 
nothing to awaken his suspicions. 

“ Oh,” he said, carelessly, as we left the room, “ I do 
think him a most pitiful fellow.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


A GIFT OF TONGUES. 

“My lady is an archer rare, 

And in the greenwood joyetli she ; 

There never was a marksman yet who could compare 
In skill with my ladie.” 

Early morning in Henley! From over the wooded 
hills in the east there comes a great flood of sunshine that 
lies warmly on the ruddy side of the old inn, on its ever¬ 
greens, and on the slopes of sweet scented mignonette, and 
sweetbrier, and various blossoms that adorn the bank c.t the 
river. The river itself, lying apparently motionless between 
level and green meadows, has its blue surface marred here 




58 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


and tliore by a white ripple of wind; the poplars that stand 
on its banks are rustling in the breeze; there are swallows 
dipping and skimming about the old bridge, and ducks 
paddling along among the rushes and weeds, and cattle 
In-owsing in the deep green ; and, farther on, some high- 
lying stretches of rye-grass struck into long and silver} 
waves l)y the morning wind. 

All the stir and motion of the new day have come upon 
us; and Henley, clean, white, and red, with its town-hall 
shining brightly down its chief street, and all its high 
clusters of old-fashioned houses backed by a fringe of dark- 
wooded hill, shows as much life and briskness as are usually 
seen in a quaint, small, old-fashioned English town. But 
where the silence and the stillness of the morning dwell is 
away up the reach of the river. Standing on the bri<lge, 
you see the dark-blue stream, reflecting a thousand bright 
colors underneath the town, gradually become grayer in 
hue until it gets out amidst the meadows and woods ; ami 
then, with a bold white curve that is glimmering like silver 
in the north, it sweeps under the line of low, soft green 
hills which have grown pearly and gray in the tender, 
morning mist. Bell is standing on the bridge, too. T’ne 
lieutenant has brought out her sketch-book, and she has 
])laced it on the stone parapet before her. But somehow 
she seems disinclined to begin work thus early on our 
journey; and, instead, her eyes are looking blankly and 
wistfully at the rich green meadows and the red cows, anti 
the long white reach of the river shining palely beneath the 
faint green heights in the north. 

“ Is Henley the prettiest town in the world, T wonder? ” 
she said. 

“ Yes, if you think so, mademoiselle,” replies Von Rosen, 
gently. 

She lifted her eyes towards him, as though she had 
been unaware of his presence. Then she turned to the 
stream. 

“ I suppose, if one were to live always among those 
bright colors, one would get not to see them, and would 
forget how fine is this old bridge, with the pretty town, 
and the meadows and the stream. Seeing it only once, I 
shall never forget Henley, or the brightness of the morn¬ 
ing.” 

With that, she closed her shetch-book, and looked 
round for Tita. That small person was engaged in making 


OF A PHAETON. 


59 


liersclf extremely wretched about her boys and tlio pony : 
and was becoming vastly indignant because she could get 
no one to sympathize with her wild imaginings of divers 
perils and dangers. 

“ Why, to hear you talk,” she was saying at this 
moment, “one would tldnk you had never experienced the 
feelings of a parent—that you did not know you were llie 
father of those two poor boys.” 

“ That,” I remark to her, “ is not a matter on which I 
am bound to express an o])inion.” 

“Very pretty—very,” she said, with a contemptuous 
smile. “ But I will say this—that if you had liad to buy 
the pony, the boys would have had to wait long enougli 
before they were exposed to the dangers you think so little 
about now.” 

“ Madam,” I observe, sternly, “ you are the victim of 
what theologians call invincible ignorance. I might have 
bought that pony and all its belongings for a twenty pound 
note ; whereas I shall have to jiay forty pounds a year for 
its keep.” 

“ Oh, I know,” says my lady, with great sweetness, 
“ how men exaggerate those things. It is convenient. 
They complain of the cost of the horses, of the heaviness 
of the taxes, and other things ; when the real fact is that 
they are trying to hide what they spend out of their income 
on cigars, and in their clubs when tliey go to town. I 
counted up our taxes the other day, and I don’t believe that 
they have been over eight pounds for the whole of the last 
six months. Now you hnow you said they were nearly 
thirty-five pounds a year.” 

“And you counted in those that are due next week, I 
suppose ?” 

“ Did you leave money to pay for them ? ” she asks, 
mildly. 

“And you based your calculations on some solitary 
instalment for armorial bearing?—which you brought into 
the family, you know.” 

“Yesj” she replies, with an engaging smile. “That 
was one thing you did not require before—I am sorry to 
have caused you so much expense. But you need not avoid 
the subject. Mrs. Quinet told me last week that she 
knows her husband pays every year sixty-five pounds for 
club subscriptions alone, and nearly forty pounds for 
cigars.” 


60 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Then Mrs. Quinet must have looked into your eyes, 
my dear, and seen what a simple little thing you are ; for 
your knowledge of housekeeping and other expenses, I w ill 
say, is as slight as need be, and Mrs. Quinet has been sim¬ 
ply making a fool of you. For the major belongs to two 
clubs, and in the one he pays eight guineas and in the 
other ten guineas a year. And he smokes Manillas at 
twenty-five shillings a hundred, wdiich is equivalent, my 
dear—though you would scarcely credit it—to threepence 
apiece.” 

“ The money must go somehow,” says Tita, defiantly. 

“That is a customary saying among wmmen ; but it 
generally refers to their own little arrangements.” 

“You avoid the question very skilfully.” 

“ I should have thought you would have preferred 
that.” 

“ Why ? ” she says, looking up. 

“ Because you accused me of stinginess in not buying a 
pony for the boys, and I showed you that I should have to 
pay forty pound a year for the brute.” 

'‘'‘Yq.'s, showed me! I suppose by that pleasing fiction 
you wdll gain another twenty pounds a year to spend in 
Partagas, and Murias, and trumpery stuff that the tobacco¬ 
nists tell you came from abroad. 

“ My dear,” I say, “ your insolence is astounding.” 

“ If you call speaking the plain truth insolence, I cannot 
help it. Bell, breakfast must be ready.” 

“Yes, my lady,” says Bell, coming forward demurely. 
“ But I wasn’t doing anything.” 

So they went off; and the count and I followed. 

“What is the matter? ” says he. 

“ Do you know w^hat a ‘ relish ’ is at breakfast ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Then don’t marry, or you will find out.” 

The tall young man with the brown beard and the light 
eyes shrugged his shoulders, and only said, as we walked to 
the inn,— 

“ That is a very pleasant comedy, when it means 
nothing. If it was earnest, you would not find so much 
enjoyment in it—no, not at all—you wmuld not amuse your¬ 
selves, like twm children, instead of the parents of a family. 
But, my dear friend, it is a dangerous thing; for some day 
you will meet wdth a stupid person, who will not under¬ 
stand how madam and yourself do make believe in that 


OF A PHAETON. 


Cl 


way, and tliat person will be astonished, and will talk of 
it, and you will both have a very bad reputation among 
your friends. ’ 

However, there was one amiable person at the breakfast- 
table, and that was our pretty Bell. 

“Bell,” I said, “ I am going to sit by you. You never 
provoke useless quarrels about nothing; you are never im¬ 
pertinent ; you never argue ; and you can look after a break¬ 
fast-table better than people twice your age.” 

Bell prudently pretended not to hear; indeed, she was 
very busy helping everybody, and making herself very use¬ 
ful and pleasant all round. She seemed to have forgotten 
her independent ways ; and was so good-naturedly anxious 
to see that the lieutenant’s coffee was all right, that he was 
apparently quite touched by her friendliness. And then 
she was very cheerful too ; and was bent on waking up the 
spirits of the whole party—but in a bright, submissive, sim¬ 
ple fashion that the audacious young lady did not always 
affect. 

“Did you hear the cocks crowing this morning?” she 
said, turning to Von Rosen with her frank eyes. “I 
thought it was so pleasant to be waked up in that way in¬ 
stead of listening to the milkman coming along a dismal 
London square, and calling up the maid-servants with his 
^EItqJio!' '‘Ehcho!' But did you notice that one of the 
cocks cried quite plainly, ‘ Oh., go atoay!^ ‘ Oh, go 
awa-a-ay!' —which was a stupid animal to have near an 
inn; and another fine fellow, who always started with a 
famous flourish, had got a cold, and at the highest note he 
went off at a tangent into something like a plaintive squeak. 
The intention of that crow, so far as it went, was far better 
than the feeble ‘ Oh., go away! ^ of the other; and I was 
quite sorry for the poor animal.—Do have some more 
toast, count.—He reminded me of poor Major Quinet, 
Tita, who begins a sentence very well; but all at once it 
jerks up into the air—goes off like a squib, you know, just 
below his nose ; and he looks amazed and ashamed, like a 
boy that has let a bird escape out of a bag.” 

“You need not amuse yourself with the personal de¬ 
fects of your neighbors, Bell,” says Tita, who did not ex¬ 
pect to have Major Quinet brought forward again. “Major 
Quinet is a very well-informed and gentlemanly man, and 
looks after his family and his estate with the greatest 
cnro.” 


THE STRANGE AD VENTURES 


Gi! 

“ I must say, Tita,” retorted Bell (and I trembled f(>r 
the girl), “tliat you have an odd trick of furnishing people 
with a sort of certificate of character, whenever you hear 
their names mentioned. Very likely the major can manage 
his affairs in spite of his cracked voice; but you know vou 
told me yourself, Tita, that he had been unfortunate in 
money matters, and was rather perplexed just now. Of 
course I wouldn’t say such a thing of one of your friends ; 
but 1 have heard of bankrupts ; and I have heard of a poor 
little man being so burdened with debt, that he looked like 
a mouse drawing a brougham, and then, of course, he had 
to go into the court to ask them to unharness him. Do 
have some more coffee, count; I am sure that is quite 
cold.” 

“You ought to be a little careful, Bell,” says my lady. 
“ You know absolutely nothing of Major Quinet, and yet 
you hint that he is insolvent.” 

“ I didn’t—did 1 ? ” says Bell, turning to her companion. 

“ No,” replies the count, boldly. 

At this Tita looked astonished for a second ; but pres¬ 
ently she deigned to smile, and say something about the 
wickedness of young people. Indeed, my lady seemed 
rather pleased by Bell’s audacity in appealing to the lieu¬ 
tenant; and she was in a better humor, when, some time 
after, we went out to the river and got a boat. 

Once more upon the Thames, W’e pulled up the river, 
that lies here between wooded hills on the one side and level 
meadows on the other. The broad blue stream was almost 
deserted; and as we got near the green islands, we could 
see an occasional young moor-hen j)addle out from among 
the rushes, and then go quickly in again, with its white tail 
bobbing in unison with its small head and beak. We 
rowed into the sluice of the mill that lies under Park Place, 
and there, having floated down a bit under some willows, 
we fixed the boat to a stump of a tree, landed, and managed 
to get into the road along which we had driven the previous 
night. As we ascended this pleasant path, which is cut 
through the woods of various mansions, and looks down 
upon the green level of Wargrave Marsh, and the shining 
meadows beyond the other bank of the river, the ascents 
and descents of the road seemed less precipitous than they 
had appeared the night before. What we had taken, fur¬ 
ther, for wild masses of rock, and fearful chasms, and dan¬ 
gerous bridges, were found to be part of the ornanicntatioa 


OF A PIIAETOX. 


G3 


of .1 park—the bridge sj^nniiing a hollow liaving been built 
of sham rock-work, whiclj, in tlie daylight, clearly revealed 
its origin. N’evertheless, this road leading through the 
river-side woods is a sufiiciently picturesque and ])ieasant 
one; and in sauntering along for a mile or two and back 
we consumed a goodly portion of the morning. Then there 
was a brisk pull back to Henley; and the phaeton was 
summoned to appear. 

When the horses were put in, and the phaeton brought 
out, I found that Von Rosen had quietly abstracted the 
bearing-reins from the harness some time during the morn¬ 
ing. However, no one could grudge the animals this relief, 
for the journey they had to make to-day, though not over 
twenty-three miles, was considerably hilly. 

Now Tita had come early out, and had evidently planned 
a nice little arrangement. She got in behind. Then she 
bade Bell get up in front. The lieutenant had lingered for 
a moment in search of a cigar-case ; and my lady had clearly 
determined to ask him to drive so soon as he came out. 
But, as she had not expressed any contrition for her con¬ 
duct of that morning, some punishment was required ; and 
so, just as Von Rosen came out, I took the reins, step])ed 
uj) beside Bell, and lie, of course, was left to join the furi¬ 
ous little lady behind. 

“I thought the count was going to drive,” says Tita, 
with a certain cold air. “ Surely the road to Oxford is 
easy to find.” 

“ It is,” I say to her. “ For you know all roads lead to 
Rome, and they say that Oxford is half-way to Rome— ar- 
gal —” 

But knowing what effect this reference to her theological 
sympathies was likely to have on Tita, I thought it prudent 
to send the horses on ; and as they sprung forward and rat¬ 
tled up the main street of Henley, her retort, if any, was 
lost in the noise. There was a laugh in Bell’s eyes ; but 
she seemed rather frightened all the same, and said nothing 
for some time. 

The drive from Henley to Oxford is one of the finest in 
England, the road leading gradually up through pleasant 
pastures and great woods until it brings you on to a common 
—the highest ground south of the Trent—from which you 
see an immeasurable wooded plain stretching away into the 
westein horizon. First of all, as we left lleiiley on tliat 
bright morning, the sweet air blow'ing coolly among the 


64 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


trees, and bringing us odors from wild flowers and breallis 
of new-mown hay, we leisurely rolled along wliat is a]^))i-o- 
priately called the Fair Mile, a broad smootli highway run¬ 
ning between Lambridge Wood and No Man’s Hill, and 
having a space of grassy common on each side of it. This 
brought us up to Assenton Cross, and here, the ascent get¬ 
ting much more stiff, Bell took the reins, and the count and 
I walked up the hill until we reached Bix Turnpike. 

“ What a curious name ! ” said Bell, as she pulled the 
horses up. 

“ Most likely,” said the lieutenant, who was looking at 
an ancientf edition of Cary’s “ Itinerary,” “ it is from the 
old Saxon hece^ the beech-tree, which is plentiful here. But 
in this book I find it is Bixgibwen, which is not in the mod¬ 
ern books. Now what is gibioen? ” 

“ St. Caedwyn, of course,” said Bell, merrily. 

“ You laugh, but perhaps it is true,” replied the lieuten¬ 
ant, with the gravity befitting a student: “ why not Sf. 
Caedwyn’s beeches? You do call many places about here by 
the trees. There is Assenton ; that is the place of ash-trees. 
We shall soon be at Nettle-bed; and then comes Nuftield, 
Avhich is Nut-field—how do you call your wildnut-tree in 
England ? ” 

“ The hazel,” said Bell. “ But that is commonplace; I 
like the discovery about St. Caedwyn’s beeches better; 
and here, sure enough, they are.” 

The road at this point—something less than a mile past 
Bix Turnpike—plunges into a spacious forest of beeches, 
which stretches along the summit of the hill almost on to 
Nettlebed. And this road is bordered by a strip of com¬ 
mon, which again leads into a tangled maze of bracken and 
brier; and then you have the innumerable stems of the 
beeches, showing long vistas into the green heart of the 
wood. The sunlight was shimmering down on this wilder¬ 
ness, lying warmly on the road and its green margin, and 
piercing here and there with golden arrows the dense canopy 
of leaves beyond. High as we were, the light breeze was 
shut off by the beeches, and in the long broad cleft in which 
the road lay the air was filled with resinous odors, that of 
the tali green and yellow brackens prevailing. An occa¬ 
sional jay lied screaming down between the smooth gray 
branches, giving us a glimpse of white and blue as it van¬ 
ished ; but otherwise there seemed to bo no birds about, 


OF A PHAETON, 


G5 


and the wild underwood and long alleys lay still and warm 
in the green twilight of the leaves. 

“ It is very like the Black Forest, I think,” said the lieu¬ 
tenant. 

“ Oh, it is much lighter in color,” cried Bell. “ Look at 
all those silver grays of the stems and the lichens, and clear 
green overhead, and the light browns and reds beneath, 
where the sunlight shines down through a veil. It is 
lighter, prettier, more cheerful than your miles of solemn 
pines, with the great roads cut through them for the carts, 
and the gloom and stillness underneath, where there is no 
growth of underwood, but only level beds of green moss 
dotted with dropped cones.” 

“ You have a very accurate eye for colors, mademoiselle ; 
no wonder you paint so well,” was all that the lieutenant 
said. But Tita warmly remonstrated with Bell. 

“You know. Bell,” she said, “ that all the Black Forest 
is not like that; there is every variety of forest scenery 
there. And pray. Miss Criticism, where were the gloomy 
pines and the solemn avenues in a certain picture which 
was sold at the Dudley last year for twenty-five English 
sovereigns ? ” 

“You needn’t tell Count Yon Rosen what my income 
is,” said Bell. “I took two months to paint that picture.” 

“ That is a very good income,” said the lieutenant, with 
a smile. 

“I do not like people with large incomes,” said Bell, 
dexterously avoiding that part of the subject. “Ithink 
they must have qualms sometimes, or else be callous. Now, 
1 would have everybody provided with a certain income, 
say two hundred pounds a year; but I would not like to 
prevent all competition, and so I would fix an income at 
which all people must stop. They might strive and strive 
if they liked, just like bells of air in a Champagne glass, 
you know, but they should only be able to reach a certain 
level in the end. I would have nobody with more than 
one thousand pounds a year; that would be my maxi¬ 
mum.” 

“ A thousand a year ! ” exclaimed Tita. “ Isn’t a thou¬ 
sand ten hundred ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Bell, after a second’s calculation. 

“ And suppose you have one hundred to pay for two 
boys at school, and another hundred for rent, and another 


C6 


rilR STRANGE ADVENTURES 


hundred for the keep of two horses, and a hundred and 
twenty for servants’ wages —” 

“ Perhaps, Tita,” I suggest in the mecke&t possible way, 
“you might as well tell Count Von Rosen what you pay 
for a leg of mutton, so that w^hen he next comes to dine 
with us he may enjoy himself the more.” 

It is well that the lightning which is said to dart from 
women’s eyes is a harmless sort of- thing—a flash in the ]>an, 
as it were, whicdi is very pretty, but sends no deadly lead 
out. However, as Queen Tita had really behaved herself 
very well since we set out from Henley, I begged Bell to 
stop and let us in, and then I asked the lieutenant if he 
would drive. 

By this time we had walked the horses nearly to the 
end of the pleasant stretch of beech wood, wdiich is about 
a mile and a half long, and before us was a bit of breezy 
common and the village of Nettlebed. Von Rosen took 
the reins and sent the horses forward. 

“ Why did you not continue to drive ? ” said Tita, 
rather timidly, when I had taken my seat beside her. 

“Because we shall presently have to go down steep 
lulls ; and as the count took off the bearing-reins this morn¬ 
ing, we may as well hold him responsible for not letting 
the horses down.” 

“ I thought perhaps you wanted to sit beside me,” she 
said, in a low voice. 

“Well, now you mention it, my dear, that was the 
reason.” 

“ It would have been a sufficient reason a good many 
years ago,” she said, with a fine affectation of tenderness; 
“but that is all over now. You have been very rude to 
jie.” 

“ Then don’t say anything more about it; receive my 
forgiveness, Tita.” 

“ That was not the way you used to speak to me when 
we w^ere at Eastbourne,” she said ; and with that she 
looked very much as if she were going to cry. Of course 
she was not going to cry. She lias had the trick of looking 
like that from her youth upward ; but as it is really about 
as pretty and pathetic as the real thing, it invariably 
answers the same purpose. It is understood to be a signal 
of surrender, a sort of appeal for compassion ; and so the 
rest of this conversation, being of a quite private nature, 
need not be made public. 


OF A PHAETON. 


07 


The count Avas taking us at a brisk pace across the bit 
of common, and then we rattled into the little clump of 
red-brick houses which forms the picturesque village of 
Nettlebed. Now, if he had been struck vuth some recol¬ 
lection of the Illack Forest on seeing Nettlebed Wood, 
imagine his surprise on finding the little inn in the vil¬ 
lage surmounted by a picture of a white deer with a royal 
crown on its head, a fair resemblance to the legendary 
creature that appeared to St. Hubertus, and that figures in 
60 many of the Schwarzwald stories and pictures. How¬ 
ever, we were out of Nettlebed before he could properly 
express his astonishment, and in the vast picture that was 
now opening out before us there was little that was Ger¬ 
man. 

We stopped on the summit of Nuffield Heath, and 
found below, as far as the eye could reach, the great and 
fertile plain of Berkshire, with a long and irregular line of 
hill shutting it in on the south. In this plain of Fields, as 
they are called—Wallingford Field, Didcot Field, Long 
Whittenham Field, and so on—small villages peeped out 
from among the green woods and pastures, where a faint 
blue smoke rose up into the sunshine. Here, as Bell began 
to expound—for she had been reading “ The Scouring of 
the White Horse ” and various other books to which that 
romantic monograph had directed her—some great deeds 
had happened in the olden time. Along that smooth line 
of hill in the south—now lying blue in the haze of the 
light—the Romans had cut a road which is still called the 
Ridgeway or Iccleton Street; and in the villages of the 
plain from Pangbourne in the south-east to Shellingford in 
the north-west, traces of the Roman occupation were fre¬ 
quently found. And then, underneath that blue ridge of 
hill and down lay Wantage, in which King Alfred was 
born ; and farther on the ridge itself becomes Dragon’s 
Hill, where St. George slew the beast that ravaged this 
fair land ; and there, as all men know, is the figure of the 
White Horse cut on the slope to commemmorate the great 
battle of Ashdown. 

“ And Ashdown, is that there also ? ” asked the lieuten- 

ant 

“ Well, no,” said Bell, trying to remember what she 
liad been told; “I think there is some doubt about it. 
King Alfred, you know, fell back from Reading when he 
was^eaten, but he stopped somewhere on the hills near—” 


(58 


THE STRAXGH ADVLXTURES 


“Wliynot the hill we have just come up?” said the 
lieutenant, with a laugh. “It is near Reading, is it not ? 
and there you have Assenton, which is Ashenton, which is 
Ashendown, which is Ashdown.” 

“ Precisely,” says Tita, with a gracious smile. “ All 
you have to do is to change John into Julius, and Sinita 
into Ciesar, and there you are.” 

“ But that is not fair, Tita,” said Bell, turning round, 
and pleading quite seriously. “ Assenton is the same as 
Ashendon, and that is the name of the place where the 
battle was fought. I think Count Yon Rosen is quite 
right.” 

“ Well, if you think so, Bell, that settles it,” said my 
lady, looking rather pleased than otherwise. 

And so we began to descend into this plain of many 
memories by a steep road that is appropriately called Gangs- 
down Hill. From thence a succession of undulations 
carried us into the green breadths of Crowmarsh Field ; 
until, finally, we drove into the village of Bensington, and 
pulled up at The Crown there, where we proposed to have 
some luncheon. 

“ This is the village of the dead,” said Tita, looking 
down the main thoroughfare, where not a living soul was 
to be seen. 

But at all events a human being appeared in the yard— 
not a withered and silent hostler, but a stout, hale, cheer¬ 
ful person, whose white shirt-sleeves ang gold chain pro¬ 
claimed him landlord. With the aid of a small boy, he 
undertook to put the horses up for an hour or two; and 
then we went into the inn. Here we found that, as the man 
in the yard was at once landlord and hostler, his wife in¬ 
side was landlady, cook, and waitress; and in a short 
space of time she had brought us some chops. Not much 
time was spent over the meal, for the parlor in which we 
sat—albeit it was a sort of museum of wonderful curiosi¬ 
ties, and was, moreover, enlivened by the presence of a 
crack-voiced cockatoo—was rather small and dark. Accord¬ 
ingly, while the horses were having their rest, we sauntered 
out to have a look at Bensington. 

It is probably not the dullest little village in England, 
but it would be hard to find a duller. There was an old 
sheplierd with a crook in his hand and a well-worn smock- 
frock on his back, who was leaning over the wooden pal¬ 
ings in front of a house, and playfully talking to a small 


OF A PHAETOxV. 


G9 


boy M'lio stood at nn open door. With many old country 
])eople it is considered tlie height of raillery to alarm a boy 
with stories of the ])unishment he is about to receive for 
something, and to visit him with an intimation that all Ids 
sins have been found out. This old shepherd, with his 
'withered-pip])in face, and his humorous grin, and his lazy 
arms folded on the top of the palings, was evidently enjoy¬ 
ing himself vastly. 

“A wur a-watchin’ o’ thee, a wur, and thy vather, he 
knaws, too, and he’ll gie thee thy vairin wi’ a good tharii 
stick when he comes hwora. A zah thee this marnin’ my 
lad—thou’lt think nah one wur thear, eh ? ” 

We left this good-natured old gentleman frightening the 
boy, and went round to the outskirts of the viltage. llere, 
at least, we found one explanation of the inordinate silence 
of Bensington—the children were all at their lessons. Tlie 
door of the plain little building, which had British School 
inscribed over the entrance, was open, and from within 
there issued a low, confused murmur. The Prussian, 
anxious to see something of the interior of an English 
school, walked up to the place ; but he hnd just managed 
to glance round on the rows of children when the door was 
}>olitely shut in his face, and he returned, saying, — 

“ I am not an inspector ; why need they fear ? ” 

But when, after wandering about the suburban gardens 
and by-ways for a space, we returned to Bensington, we 
found that important village in a state of profound excite¬ 
ment. In the main thoroughfare a concourse of five peo- 
])le had assembled—three women and two children—and 
from the doors of the houses on both sides of the street in¬ 
numerable faces, certainly not less than a dozen, were 
gazing forth. It is true that the people did not themselves 
come out—they seemed rather to shrink from courting 
publicity; but they were keenly alive to what was going 
on, and Bensington had become excited. 

For there had appeared in the main street a little, dry, 
odd old man, who was leading a small donkey-cart, and 
who was evidently rather the worse for liquor. He was a 
seller of pease. He had summoned the inhabitants to come 
out and buy the pease, and he was offering them at what 
we were told were very reasonable terms. But just as the 
old man was beginning to enjoy the receipt of customs, 
there drove into the place a sharp, brisk, middle-aged man, 
with a shiny face, a fine presence, and a ringing voice. This 


70 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


man liad a neat cart, a handsome pony, and his name was 
] rinted in large letters, so that all could read. He was also 
a seller of pease. Now, althougli this rude and ostenta¬ 
tious owner of the pony was selling his produce at fourpence, 
while the humble proprietor of the donkey sold his at 
threepence, the women recalled their children and bade 
them go to the dearer market. There was something in 
the appearance of the man, in the neatness of liis cart, and 
in the ringing cheerfulness of his voice, which told you he 
sold go od pease. This was the cause of the great pertur¬ 
bation in Bensington; for no sooner did the half-tipsy 
old man see that his rival was carrying the day before him 
than he leaned his arms over his donkey’s head, and began 
to make ironical comments on his enemy and on the people 
of Bensington. He was apparently in the best of spirits. 
You would have thought it delighted him to see the small 
girls come timidly forward to him, and then be warned 
away by a cry from their mothers that they were to go to the 
other cart. Nay, he went the length of advertising 1 is 
neighbor’s wares. He addressed the assembled multitudes 
—by this time there were nearly fifteen people visible in 
Bensington—and told them he wouldn’t sell his pease if he 
was to get a fortune for them. 

“ Pay your foppence,” he said to them, in accents which 
showed he was not of Bensington born, “ there are yer right 
good pease. It’s all along o’ my donkey as you’ll not take 
mine, though they’re only thrippence. I wouldn’t sell. I 
won’t sell this day. Take back yer money. I won’t sell 
my pease at a crown apiece—darned if I do ! ” 

And with that he left his donkey and went over to the 
proprietor of the pony. He was not in a fighting mood— 
not he. He challenged his rival to run the pony against the 
donkey, and offered to bet the donkey would be in London 
a week before the other. The man in the cart took no 
notice of these sallies. In a brisk, practical, methodical 
fashion, he was measuring out his pease, and handing them 
down to the uplifted bowls that surrounded him. Sometimes 
he grinned in a good-natured way at the facetious remarks 
of liis unfortunate antagonist; but all the same he stuck 
to his business and drove a thriving trade. How there came 
to be on that afternoon so many people in Bensington who 
wished to buy pease must remain a mystery. 

“ And now,” said Bell, as we once more got into the 


OF A PHAETON-. 


71 


two hours. Do you 


’^h.K'tnn, “we slinll be in Oxford in 
tjiink the post-office will be open?” 

“ Very likely,” said Tita, with some surprise ; “ but do 
you expect letters already, Bell?” 

“ You cannot tell,” said the young lady, with just a shade 
of embarrassment, “ how soon Kate may send letters after 
us. And she knows we are to stop a day at Oxford. It 
yi^ll^not be too dark to go hunting for the post-office, will 


“ But you shall not go,” said the lieutenant, giving a 
shake to the reins, as if in obedience to Bell’s wish. “ When 
y(ui have got to the hotel, I will go and get your letters for 
you.” 

“ Oh no, thank you,” said Bell, in rather a hurried and 
anxious way. “I should prefer much to go for them my¬ 
self, thank you.”' 

That was all that w^as said on the subject; and Bell, we 
noticed, was rather silent for the first few miles of our 
afternoon drive. The lieutenant did his best to amuse her, 
and carried on a lively conversation chiefly by himself. That 
mention of letters seemed to have left Bell rather serious ; 
and she was obviously not over delighted at the prospect of 
reaching Oxford. 

The road from Bensington thither is pleasant enough, 
but not particularly interesting. For the most part it de¬ 
scends by a series of undulations into the level plain watered 
by the Isis, the Chervvell, and the Thames. But the 
mere notion of approaching that famous city, which is con¬ 
secrated with memories of England’s greatest men—states¬ 
men and divines, melancholy philosophers and ill-starred 
poets—is in itself impressive,and lends to the rather common; 
jdace landscapes an air of romance. While as yet the old 
town lies unseen amidst the woods that crowd up to the very 
edge of the sky, one fancies the bells of the colleges are to be 
Iieard, as Pope heard them when he rode, a solitary horse¬ 
man, over these very hills, and down into the plain, and up 
to Magdalen Bridge.* We cared little to look at the villages. 


* “ Nothing could have more of that melancholy which once used 
to please me than my last day’s journey; for after liaving passed 
through my favorite woods in the forest, with a thousand reveries of 
past pleasures, I rid over hanging hills, whose tops were edged with 
groves, and whose feet watered with winding rivers, listening to the 
falls of cataracts below and the murmuring of the winds above ; the 
gloomy verdure of Stonor succeeded to these, and then the shades of 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


strung like beads on the winding thread of the road— 
Shellmi^ford, Dorchester, Nuneham Courtenay, and Sanford 

_nor did we even turn aside to go down to Ifliey aiid the 

Thames. It was seven when we drew near Oxford. There 
"were people sauntering out from the town to have their 
evening walk. AVhen, at last, we stopped to pay toll in front 
of the^old lichen-covered bridge across the Cherwell, the 
tower of Magdalen College, and the magnificent elms on 
tlie other side of the way, had caught a tinge of red from 
the dusky sunset, and there was a faint reflection of crim¬ 
son down on the still waters that lay among the rank green 
meadows. Then we drove on into the High Street, and 
here, in the gathering dusk, the yellow lamps were begin¬ 
ning to glimmer Should we pull up at The Angel—that 
famous hostelry of ancient times, wliose name used to be 
inscribed on so many notable coaches ? “We})Ut up at 
The Angel Inn,” writes Mr. Boswell, “and passed the even¬ 
ing by ourselves in easy and familiar conversation.” Alas ! 
The Angel has now been pulled down. Or shall we follow 
the hero^of “The Splendid Shilling,” who,— 

“ When nightly mists arise, 

To Juniper’s Magpie or Town-hall repairs ? ” 

They, too, are gone. But as Castor and Pollux, during 
these moments of doubts and useless reminiscence, are still 
taking us over the rough stones of the “ High,” some de¬ 
cision must be come to; and so, at a sudden instigation. 
Count Von Rosen pulls up in front of Tlie Mitre, wTiich is 
an appropriate sign for the High Street of Oxford, and be¬ 
tokens age and respectability. 

The stables of The Mitre are clean, well ventilated, and 
well managed—indeed, no better stables could have been 
found for putting up the horses for their next day’s rest. 
AVhen we had seen to their comfort, we returned to the inn, 

evening overtook me. The moon rose in the clearest sky I ever saw, 
l>y whose solemn light I paced on slowly, without company, or any 
interruption to the range of my thoughts. About a mile before I 
reached Oxford, all the bells tolled in different notes ; the clocks of 
every college answered one another and sounded forth (some in 
deeper, soine in a softei tone)that it was eleven at night. All this was 
no ill preparation to the life I have led since among those old walls, 
venerable galleries, stone porticos, studious walks, and solitary scenes 
of the University ,”—Pope to Mrs. Martha Blount, [Stouor Park lies 
fibout two miles to right of Bix turnpike.] 


OF A PHAETON. 


73 


and found that my lady and Bell had not only had all the 
luggage conveyed to our respective rooms, but had ordered 
dinner, changed their attire, and were waiting for us in the 
square, old-fasluoned, low-roofed coffee-room which looks 
out into the High Street. A tall waiter was laying the 
cloth for us; tlie liglits were lighted all round the wall ; 
our only companions were two elderly gentlemen who sat 
in a remote corner, and gave themselves up to politics ; and 
Bell, having resolved to postpone her inquiry about letters 
until next morning—in obedience to the very urgent en¬ 
treaties of the lieutenant—seemed all the more cheerful for 
that resolution. 

But if our two friends by the fireplace could not over¬ 
hear our talk, we could overhear theirs; and all the lime 
we sat at dinner we were receiving a vast amount of en¬ 
lightenment about the condition of the country. The 
chief spokesman was a short, stout person, with a fresh, 
liealthy, energetic face, keen gray eyes, bushy gray whiskers, 
a bald head, and a black-satin waistcoat; his companion, a 
taller and thinner man, with straight black hair, sallow 
cheeks, and melancholy dark eyes : and the former, in a 
somewhat pompous manner, was demonstrating the blind¬ 
ness of ordinary politicians to the wrath that was to come. 
Lord Palmerston saw it, he said. There was no statesman 
ever like Lord Palmerston—there would never be his like 
again. For was not the North bound to fight the South 
ill every country? And what should we do if the men of 
the great manufacturing towns were to come down on us? 

There were two Englands in this island—and the West¬ 
minster houses knew nothing of the rival camps that were 
being formed. And did not the North always beat the 
South? Did not Home boat Carthage? and the Iluns the 
Homans; and the Northern States the Southern States? 
and Prussia Austria? and Germany France? And when 
the big-limbed and determined men of Birmingham, Leeds, 
Manchester, Preston, Newcastle, and such towns, rose to 
sweep aside the last feudal institutions of this country, of 
what avail would be a protest on the part of the feeble and 
self-indulgent South? 

“This kingdom, sir,” said the gentleman witli the satin 
waistcoat and gold seals, in such lofty tones that Count Von 
Hosen scarcely minded his dinner—“ this kingdom, sir, is 
more divided at this moment than it was during the Wars 
of the Hoses. It is split into hostile factions; and which ia 


74 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


the more patriotic? Neitlicr. There is no patriotism 
left—only the selfishness of class. We care no more for 
the country as a country. We are cosmopolitan. The 
scepticism of the first French Revolution has poisoned our 
big towns. We tolerate a monarchy as a harmless toy. 
We tolerate unendowed priesthood^ because we think they 
cannot make our peasantry more ignorant than they are. 
We allow pauperism to increase and eat into the heart of 
the State, because we think it no business of ours to inter¬ 
fere. We see our lowest classes growing up to starve or 
steal, in ignorance and dirt; our middle classes scrambling 
for wealth to get out of the state they were born in ; our 
upper classes given over to luxury and debauchery— 
patriotism gone—Continental nations laughing at us—our 
army a mere handful of men with incompetent officers— 
our navy made the subject of destructive experiments by 
interested cliques—our Government ready to seize on the 
most revolutionary schemes to get together a majority and 
remain in power—selfishness, incompetence, indifference 
become paramount—it is horrible, sir, it is Orrible.” 

In his anxiety to be enqfiiatic, he left out that one “ h 
it was his only slip. Our lieutenant turned to Tita, and 
said. 

“ I have met many English people in Germany who 
have spoken to me like that. They do seem to have a 
pride in criticising themselves and their country. Is it 
because they feel they are so strong and so rich, and so 
good, that they can afford to dispraise themselves ? Is it 
because th.ey feel themselves so very safe in this island that 
they think little of patriotism, yes ? But I have observed 
this thing—that when it is a foreigner who begins to say 
such things of England, your countryman he instantly 
changes his tone. lie may say himself bad things of his 
country ; but he will not allow any one else. That is very 
good—very right. But I would rather have a Frenchman 
who is very vain of his country, and says so at every 
moment, than an Englishman who is very vain, and 
pretends to disparage it. The Frenchman is more honest.” 

“ But there are many Englishmen who think England 
wants great improvement,” said Tita. 

“Improvements! Yes. But it is another thing you 
hear so many Englishmen say, that their country is all 
wrong—‘going to the dogs’ is what you say for that. 
Well, they do not believe it true—it is impossible to be 


OF A PHAETON. 


75 

true ; and they do not look well with us foreigners wlien 
they say so. For myself, I like to see a man proud of his 
country, whatever country it is; and if my country were 
Fngland, do not you think I should be proud of lier great 
history, and her great men, and her ])owers of filling the 
world with colonies, and—what I think most of all—her 
courage in making the country free to every man, and 
protecting opinions that she herself does not believe, be¬ 
cause it is right? When my countrymen hear Englishmen 
talk like that, they cannot understand.” 

You should have seen our Bell’s face—the' pride and 
gratitude that were in her eyes, while she did not speak. 

“You would not liave us go about praising ourselves 
for doing right ? ” said Tita. 

“ No,” he said, “ but you ought not to go about profess¬ 
ing yourselves to be less satisfied with your country than 
you are.” 

“ Before breaking up for the night, we came to a reckon¬ 
ing about our progress, and probable line of route. Fifty- 
eight miles—that was the exact distance by straight road, 
we had got on our way to Scotland at the end of the third 
day.” 

“ And to-morrow,” said Tita, as she finished giving the 
lieutenant his first lesson in bezique, “counts for nothing, 
as we remain here. Fifty-eight miles in three days looks 
rather small, does it not? But I suppose we shall get 
there in course of time.” 

“Yes,” said Bell, gently, as she put the markers 
straight, “ in Pollux’s course of time.” 

My lady rose, and in her severest tones ordered the 
girl to bed. 


[Note hy Queen Titania .—“ If these jottings of our journey come 
to be published, I beg to say that, so far as I appear in them, they arc 
a little unfair. I hope I am not so very terrible a person as all that 
comes to. I have noticed in some other families that a man of 
obstinate will and of uncertain temper likes nothing so much as to 
pretend to his friends that he suffers dreadfully from the tyranny of 
Ills wife. It is merely self-complacency. He knows no one dares 
thwart him ; and so he thinks it rather humorous to give himself the 
air of being much injured, and of being very good-natured. I dare 
say, however, most people who look at these memoranda will be able 
to decide whether the trilling misunderstandings—which have been 
much exaggerated and made to look serious —were owing to me. 
But as for Bell, I do not think it right to joke about her position at 
all. She does lier best to keep up her spirits—and she is a brave, 
good girl, who likes to be cheerful if only for the sake of those 


76 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


around lier : but tliis affair of Artluir Asliburtou is causing lior deep 
anxiety and a good deal of vexation. Wliy she should have some 
vague impression that she has treated him hadly, I cannot set; ; tor 
the very reverse is the case. But surely it is unfair to make this 
lovers’ quarrel the pretext for dragging Bell into a wild romance, 
which the writer of the foregoing pages seems bent on doing. Indeed, 
with regard to this subject, I cannot do better than repeat a conver¬ 
sation which, with characteristic ingenuity^ he has entirely omitted. 
He said to me, v/liile we were wandering about Bensington—and 
Bell had strolled on with Count Von Kosen,— 

“ ‘ After all, our phaeton is not a microcosm. We have not the 
complete elements for a romance. We have no villain with us.* 

“ ‘ You flatter yourself,’ I remarked ; which did not seem to 
please liim, but he pretended not to hear. 

“ ‘ There will be no dark background to our adventure—no crime, 
secrecy, ])lotting or malicious thwarting of Bell’s happiness. It 
will be like a magic-lantern slide with all the figures painted in rose- 
color.’ 

“ ‘What do you mean by Bell’s happiness ?’ I asked. 

“ ‘ Her marriage with tli« lieutenant, and there is no villain to 
oppose it. Even if we had a villain, there is no room for him : the 
pliaeton only holds four comfortably.” 

“Beallythis was too much. I could scarcely control my impa¬ 
tience with such folly. I have said before that the girl does not wish 
to marry any one ; but if there were any thought of marriage in lier 
mind, surely her anxiety about that letter points in a different way. 
Of course I was immediately taunted with scheming to throw Bell 
and Count Von Rosen together during our drive. I admit that I did so, 
and mean to do so. We ought not to expect young folks to be always 
delighted with tlie society of their elders. It is only natural that these 
two young people should become companions ; but what of that ? And 
as to the speech about a villain, who ever saw one ? Out of a novel 
or a play, I never saw a villain and I don't know anybody who ever 
did. It seems to me there is a good deal of self-satisfaction in the 
notion that we four are all so angelic that it wants some disagreeable 
])erson to throw us into relief. Are we all painted in rose-color? 
Looking back over these pages, I do not think so ; but I am not 
surprised—considering ivho had the wielding of the brush. And yet 
I think we have so far enjoyed ourselves very well, considering that 
I am supposed to be very hard to please, and very quarrelsome. 
Perhaps none of us are so amiable as we ought to be ; and yet we 
manage to put up with one another somehow. In the meantime, I 
am grieved to see Bell, without the intervention of any villain 
whatever, undergoing great anxiety ; and I wish the girl had sufii- 
cient courage to sit down at once and write to Arthur Ashburton and 
absolutely forbid him to do anything so foolish as seek an interview 
with her. If he should do so, it is impossible to say what may come of 
it, for our Bell has a good deal of pride with all her gentleness.— T.”] 


OF A rnAETON’. 


?7 


CHAPTER VIL 

ATRA CURA. 

“ O gentle wind that blowetli south, 

To where my love repairetli, 

Convey a kiss toliis dear moutli, 

And tell me how he fareth I ” 

“ My dear, you are unphilosoplucal. Why should you 
rebuke Bell for occasionally using one of those quaint 
American phrases, which have wandered into this country? 
I can remember a young person *who had a great trick of 
quoting Italian—especially in moments of tenderness—but 
that was a long time ago—and perhaps she has forgotten—” 
It is shameful of you,” says Queen Titania, hastily, 
“ to encourage Bell in that way. She would never do any¬ 
thing of the kind but for you. And you know very well 
that quoting a foreign language is quite a different thing 
from using those stupid Americanisms which are only fit 
for negro concerts.” 

“ My dear, you are unphilosophical. When America 
started in business on her own account, she forgot to furnish 
herself with an independent language; but ever since she 
has been working hard to supply the want. By and by you 
will find an American language—sharp, concise, expressive 
—built on the diffuse and heavy foundations of our own 
English. Why should not Bell use those tentative phrases 
which convey so much in so few syllables ? Why call it 
slang? What is slang but an effort at conciseness?” 

Tita looked puzzled, vexed, and desperate; and inad¬ 
vertently turned to Count Von Rosen, who was handing the 
sugar-basin to Bell. He seemed to understand the appeal, 
for he immediately said,— 

“ Oh, but you do know that is not the objection. I do 
not think mademoiselle talks in that way, or should be criti¬ 
cised about it by any one ; but the wrong that is done by 
introducing the slang words is, that it distroys the history 
of a language. It perverts the true meaning of roots—it 
takes au ay the poetry of derivations—it confuses the stu¬ 
dent.” 


78 


THE STRANGE ADVENIURES 


“ And who thought of students when the various objects 
in life were named ? And whence came the roots ? And 
is not language always an experiment, producing fresh re¬ 
sults as people find it convenient, and leaving students to 
frame laws as they like ? And why are we to give up 
succinct words or phrases because the dictionaries of the 
last generation consecrated them to a particular use? My 
dear children, the process of inventing language goes on 
from year to year, changing, modifying, supplying and build¬ 
ing up new islands out of the common sand and tlie sea. 
What to-day is slang, to-morrow is language, if one may be 
permitted to parody Feuerbach. And I say that Bell, having 
an accurate ear for fit sounds, shall use such words as slie 
likes : and if she can invent epithets of her own—” 

“ But please, I don’t wish to do anything of the kind,” 
says Bell, looking quite shamefaced. 

That is just the way of tliose women: interfere to help 
them in a difficulty, and they straightway fly over to the 
common enemy, especially if he happens to represent a 
social majority. 

I began to perceive about this stage of our journey tliat 
a large number of small articles over which Bell had charge 
were now never missing. Whenever she wanted a map, or 
a guide-book, or any one of the things which had been 
specially intrusted to her, it was forthcoming directly. Nay, 
she never had, like Tita, to look for a hat, or a shawl, or a 
scarf, or a packet of bezique-cards. I also began to notice 
that when she missed one of those things, she somehow in¬ 
advertently turned to our lieutenant, who was quite sure to 
know where it was, and to hand it to her on the instant. The 
consequence on this morning was that, wlien we all came 
down prepared to go out for an exploration of Oxford, we 
found Bell at the window of the coffee-room, already 
dressed, and looking placidly out into the High Street, 
where the sunlight was shining down on the top of the old- 
fasliioned houses opposite, and on the brand-new bank, 
which as a compliment to the prevailing style of the city, 
has been built in very distinguished Gothic. 

It was proposed that we should first go down and have 
a look at Christ Church. 

“ And that will just take us past the post-office,” said 
Bell. 

“ Why, how do you know that? Have you been out?” 
asked Titania. 


OF A PHAETOjV. 79 

“No,” replied Bell, simply. “But Count Von Rosen 
told me where it was.” 

“Oh, I have been all over the town this morning,” said 
the lieutenant, carelessly. “ It is the finest town that I 
have yet seen—a sort of Gothic Munich, but old, veiy old 
—not new, and white like Munich, where the streets are 
asking you to look at their fine buildings. And I have been 
down to the river—that is very fine, too; even the appear¬ 
ance of the old colleges and buildings from the meadows— 
that is wonderful.” 

“ Have you made any other discoveries this morning?” 
said Queen Tita, witli a gracious smile. 

“ Yes,” said the young man, lightly. “ I have discovered 
that the handsome young waiter who gave us our break¬ 
fast—that he has been a rider in a circus, which I did sus¬ 
pect myself, from his manner and attitudes—and also an 
actor. He is a very fine man, but not much spirit. I was 
asking him this morning why he is not a soldier. He de¬ 
spises that, because you pay a shilling a day. That is a pity 
jour soldiers are not—what shall I say?—respectable ; that 
your best young men do not like to go with them, and 
become under-officers. But I do not know he is very good 
stuff for a soldier—he smiles too much, and makes himself 
pleasant. Perhaps that is only because he is a waiter.” 

“ Have you made any other acquaintances this morn¬ 
ing?” says Tita, with a friendly amusement in her eyes. 

“No, no one—except the old gentleman who did talk 
politics last night. He is gone away by the train to Birm¬ 
ingham.” 

“ Pray when do you get up in the morning? ” 

“ I did not look that; but there was no one in the streets 
when I went out, as there would be in a German town ; and 
even now there is a great dulness. I have inquired about 
the students—they are all gone home—it is a vacation. 
And a young lady in a book-shop told me that there is no 
life in the town when the students are gone ; that all places 
close early; that even the milliners’shops are closed just 
now at half-past seven, while they are open tlill nine when 
the students are here.” 

“ And what,” says my lady, with a look of innocent 
wonder, “ what have the students to do with milliners’ 
sho})s, that such places should be kept open on their 
account ? ” 

No one could offer a sufficient solution of this problem; 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


and so ^ve left the coffee-room and plunged into the glare 
of the High Street. 

It Avould be useless to attempt here any detailed account 
of that day’s long and pleasant rambling through Oxford. 
To any one who knows the appearance and tlie associations 
of the grand old city—who is familiar witli the various 
mass of crumbling colleges, and quiet cloisters, and grassy 
quadrangles—who has wandered along the quaint clean 
streets that look strangely staid and orthodox, and are as 
old as the splendid elms that break in continually on tlie 
lines and curves of the prevailing architecture—to one who 
has even seen the city at a distance, with its many spires 
and turrets set amidst fair green meadows, and girt about 
with the silver windings of streams—any such brief recapit¬ 
ulation would be wholly bald and useless; while he to whom 
Oxford is unknown can learn nothing of its beauties and 
impressions without going there. Our party absolutely 
refused to go sight seeing, and were quite content to acce])t 
the antiquarian researches of the guide-books on credit. It 
was enough for us to ramble leisurely through the old 
courts and squares and alleys, whore the shadows lay cool 
under the gloomy walls, or under avenues of magnificent 
elms. 

But first of all we paid a more formal visit to Christ 
Church, and on our way thither the lieutenant stopped Bell 
at the post-office. She begged leave to ask for letters her¬ 
self ; and presently reappeared with two in her hand. 

“ These are from the boys,” she said to my lady : “ there 
is one for you, and one for papa.” 

“ You have had no letter ? ” said Tita. 

“ No,” answered Bell, somewhat gravely, as I fancied ; 
and for some time after she seemed rather thoughtful and 
anxious. 

As we passed underneath the archway in front of the 
sunlit quadrangle of Christ Church, the letters from the 
boys were read aloud. Tliis is the first one, which shows 
the pains a boy will take to write properly to his mother, 
especially when lie can lay his hands on some convenient 
guide-book to correspondence;— 

“ Cowley House, Twickenham. 

“ My dear Mamma, —I take up my pen to let you know 
that I am quite well, and hope that this will find you in the 
engoyment of good health. My studdies are advancing 


OF A P//AFTOJ\r. 


81 


favably, and I hope I shall continue to please my teacher 
and my dear parents, wlio have been so kind to me, and are 
anxious for my welfare. I look forward witli mucli delight 
to the approaching holidays, and I am, my dear mamma, 
your affectionate son, 

“Jack. 

“ P.S.—He does gallop so ; and he cats beans.” 

Master Tom, on the other hand, showed that the fear of 
his mother was not on him when he sat down to write. Both 
of them had evidently just been impressed with the pony’s 
galloping ; for the second letter was as follows :— 

“ Cowley House, Twickenham. 

“My dear Papa,— He does gallop so, you can’t think 
[tins phrase, as iin})roper, was hastily scored through] and 
I took him down to the river and the boys were very Im¬ 
pertinent and 1 rode him down to the river and they had to 
run away from their clothes and he went into the river a 
good bit and was not afraid but you know he cannot swim 
yet as he is very young Harry French says and Doctor 
Ashburton went with us yesterday my dear papa to the 
ferry and Dick was taken over in the ferry and we all went 
threw the trees by Ham House and up to Ham Common 
and back by Riclimond bridge and Dick was not a bit 
Tired. But what do you think my dear papa Doctor Ash¬ 
burton says all our own money won’t pay for his hay and 
corn and lie will starve if you do not send some please my 
dear papa to send some at once because if he starvves once 
he will not get right again and the Ostler says he is very 
greedy but he his a very good pony and very intelgent dear 
])aj)a Doctor Ashburton has bawt us each a riding-whip 
but I never hit him over the ears which the Ostler says is 
dangerus and you must tell the German gentleman that 
Jack and I are very much obled [scored out] obledg [also 
scored out] obbliged to him, and send our love to him and 
to dear Auntie Bell and to dear Mamma and I am my dear 
papa your affexnate son. Tom.” 

*‘It is really disgraceful,” said the mother of the scamps, 
“the shocking way those boys spell. Really Dr. Ashburton 
must be written to. At their age, and with such letters as 
these—it is shameful.” 

“I think they are very clever boys,” said Bell, “and I 


82 


THE STRAiXGE ADVENTURES 


nope you won’t impose extra lessons on them just as they 
have got a pony.” 

“ They ought not to have had the pony until they had 
given a better account of themselves at school,” said my 
lady, severely; to W'hich Bell only replied by saying, in a 
])ensive manner, that she wished she was a boy of nine years 
of age, just become possessed of a pony, and living in the 
country. 

We spent a long time in-Christ Church, more especially 
in the magnificent Hall, where the historical portraits 
greatly interested Bell. She entered into surmises as to the 
sensations which must have been felt by the poets and 
courtiers of Queen Elizabeth’s time when they had to pay 
compliments to the thin-faced, red-haired woman who is 
here represented in her royal satins and pearls; and won¬ 
dered whether, after they had celebrated her as the Queen 
of Beauty, they afterward reconciled these flatteries to their 
conscience by lookiiig on them as sarcasm. But whereas 
Bell’s criticism of the picture was quite gentle and unpre¬ 
judiced, there was a good deal more of acerbity in the tone 
in which Queen Tita drew near to speak of Holbein’s 
Henry VIH. My firm belief is, that the mother of those 
two boys at Twickenham, if she only had the courage of her 
opinions—and dared to reveal those secret sentiments which 
now find expression in decorating our bedrooms with 
missal-like texts, and in the use of ritualistic phrases to 
describe ordinary portions of the service and ordinary days 
of the year—would really be discovered to be— But let 
that pass. What harm Henry VIII. had done her, I could 
not make out. Any one may perceive that that monarch 
has not the look of an ascetic; that the contour of his 
face and the setting of his eyes are not ])articularly pleas¬ 
ing; that he could not easily be mistaken for Ignatius 
Loyola. But why any woman of these present days, who 
subscribes to Mudie’s, watches the costumes of the Princess 
of Wales, and thinks that Dr. Puseyhas been ungenerously 
treated, should regard a portrait of Henry VIII. as though 
he had done her an injury only the week before last, it is 
not easy to discover. Bell, on the other hand, was discours¬ 
ing to the lieutenant about the various workmanship of the 
pictures, and giving him a vast amount of information 
about technical matters, in which he aooeared to take a 
deep interest. 


OF A PHAETON. 


83 


“ But clkl you ever paint upon panel yourself, raaclc- 
moiselle?” he asked. 

“ Oil yes,” said Bell, “ 1 was at one time very fond of it. 
But I never made it so useful as a countryman of mine 
once suggested it might be. He was a Cumberland farmer 
who had come down to our house at Ambleside ; and when 
lie saw me painting on a piece of wood, he looked at it 
with great curiosity. 

“ ‘ Hell, lass,- he said, ‘ thou’s pentin a fine pictur there, 
and on wood, too. Is’t for the yell-house?” 

“ ‘ No,’I said, cx])laining that I was painting for my 
own pleasure, and that it was not a public-house sign. 

“‘To please thysel, heh? And when thou’s dune wi’ 
the pictur, thou canst plane it off the wood, and begin an¬ 
other—that’s thy meanin’ is’t?’ 

“ I was very angry with him, for 1 was only about fif- 
teen then, and I wanted to send my picture to a London 
exhibition.” 

“Why, I did see it down at Leatherhead ! ” said Von 
Rosen. “ Was not that the picture, on panel, near the 
M'indow of the dining-room ? ” 

“ Come, come ! ” said Titania to the girl, who could not 
quite conceal the pleasure she felt on hearing that the count 
had noticed this juvenile effort of hers; “come along, and 
let us see the library before we go into the open air again.” 

In the library, too, were more portraits and pictures, in 
which these young people were much interested. We 
found it impossible to drag them along. They would loiter 
in some corner or other, and then, Avhen we forsook our 
civil attendant and went back for them, he found them 
deeply engrossed in some obscure portrait, or buried in a 
huge parchment-bound folio which the lieutenant had taken 
out and opened. Bell was a fairly well-informed young 
woman, as times go, and knew quite as much of French 
literature as was good for her; but it certainly puzzled 
Tita and myself to discover what possible interest she 
could have in gazing upon the large pages of the “ Ency¬ 
clopaedia,” while the lieutenant talked to her about»D’Alem¬ 
bert. Nor could it be possible that a young lady of her 
years and pursuits had imbibed so much reverence for orig¬ 
inal editions as to stand entranced before this or that well- 
known author whose earliest offspring had been laid hold 
of by her companion. They both seemed unwilling to 
leave this library; but Von Rosen explained the matter 


84 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


^vlien lie came out—saying that he had never felt so keenly 
the proverbial impulses of an Uhlan as when we found him¬ 
self witli these valuable old books in his hand and only one 
attendant near. I congratulated the authorities of Christ 
Church on what they had escaped. 

Of course he went down to the river some little time 
after lunch ; and had a look from Folly Bridge on the va¬ 
rious oddly assorted crews that had invaded the sacred 
waters of the Isis in the absence of the University men. 
AVhen the lieutenant proposed that we, too, should get a 
boat and make a voyage down between the green meadows, 
it almost seemed as if we were venturing into a man’s 
house in the absence of the owner; but then Bell very 
prettily and urgently added her supplications, and Tita 
professed herself not unwilling to give the young folks an 
airing on the stream. There were plenty of signs that it 
was vacation-time besides the appearance of the nondescript 
oarsmen. There was a great show of painting and scraping 
and gilding visible among that long line of mighty barges 
that lay under the shadow of the elms, moored to tall 
white poles that sent a line of silver down into the glassy 
and troubled water beneath. Barges in blue, and barges 
in cream and gold, barges with splendid prows and Gorgon 
figure-heads, barges with steam-paddles and light awnings 
over the upper deck, barges with that deck supported by 
pointed arches, as if a bit of an old cloister had been 
carried down to decorate a pleasure-boat—all these re¬ 
sounded to the blows of hammers, and were being made 
bright with many colors. The University barge itself had 
been dragged out of the water, and was also undergoing 
the same process; although the cynical person who had 
put the cushions in our boat had just remarked, with some¬ 
thing of a shrug. 

“ I hope that the mahn as has got the job’ll get paid for 
it, for the ’Varsity crew are up to their necks in debt, that’s 
what they are ! ” 

When once we had got away from Christ Church 
meadows, there were fewer obstructions in our course ; but 
whether it was that the currents of the river defied the 
skill of our coxswain, or weather it was that the lieutenant 
and Bell, sitting together in the stern, were too much oc¬ 
cupied in pointing out to each other the beauties of the 
scenery, we found ourselves with a fatal frequency running 
into the bank, with the prow of the boat hissing through 


OF A PHAETON. 


85 


the rushes and flags. Nevertheless, we managed to get up 
to Iflley, and there, having moored the boat, we proceeded 
to land and walk up to the old church on the brow of the 
hill. 

“ It’s what tliey calls eerly English,” said the old lady 
wlio showed us over the ancient building. She was not a 
talkative person ; she was accustomed to get over the neces¬ 
sary information rapidly; and then spent the interval in 
looking strangely at the tall lieutenant and his brown beard. 
She did not betray any emotion when a small gratuity 
was given her. She had not even said “ Thank you” 
when Von Rosen, on calling for the keys of the church, had 
found the gate of her garden unhinged, and had labored fully 
ten minutes in hammering a rusty piece of iron into the 
wooden post. Perhaps she thought it was Bell who had 
driven down the gate; but at aM events she expressed no 
sense of gratitude for its restoration. 

Near an old yew-tree there was a small grave—new- 
made and green with grass—on which some careful hand 
had placed a cross composed exclusively of red- and white 
roses. This new grave, with these fresh evidences of love 
and kindly remembrance on it, looked strange in the rude 
old churchyard, where stones of unknown age and oblit¬ 
erated names lay tumbled about or stood awry among the 
Aveeds and grass. Yet this very disorder and decay, as 
Tita said gently, seemed to her so much more pleasant than 
the cold and sharp precision of the iron crosses in French 
and German graveyards, with their grim, fantastic decora¬ 
tions and wreaths of immortelles. She stood looking at this 
new grave and its pretty cross of roses, and at the green 
and weatherworn stones, and at the black old yew-tree, for 
some little time ; until Bell—who knows of something that 
happened when Tita was but a girl, and her brother scarcely 
more than a child—drew her gently away from us, towards 
the gate of the churchyard. 

“Yes,” said the lieutenant, not noticing, but turning to 
the only listener remaining ; “ that is true. I think your 
English churchyards in the country are very beautiful—very 
))icturesque, very pathetic indeed. But Avhat you have not 
in this country are the beautiful songs about death that we 
j^ave—not religious hymns, or anything like that—but small, 
little poems that the country-people know and repeat to 
their children. Do you know that one that says,— 


86 


rilE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ ‘Hier sclilummert das Herz, 

Befreit von betaubenden Sorgen • 

Es weckt uns kein Morgen 
Zu grosserern Schraerz.’ 

And it ends this way ; 

“ ‘ Was weinest denn du ? 

Icb trage nun muthig mein Leiden, 

Und rufe mit Freuden, 

Im Grabe ist Ruh’ ? ’ 

There was one of my comrades in the war—he was from 
my native place, but not in my regiment—he was a very 
good fellow—and when he was in the camp before Metz, 
his companion was killed. Well, he buried him separate 
from the others, and went about till he got somewhere a 
gravestone, and he began to cut out, just with the end of a 
l)ayonet, these two verses on the stone. It took him many 
weeks to do that; and I did hear from one of my friends 
in the regiment that two days after he had put up the stone 
lie was himself killed. Oh, it is very hard to have your 
companion killed beside you, and he is away from his friends 
and when you go back home without him—they look at 
you as if you had no right to be alive and their son dead. 
That is very hard —I knew it in sixty-six when 1 went back 
to Berlin, and had to go to see old Madame Yon Hebei. I 
do hope never to have that again.” 

Is there a prettier bit of quiet river scenery in the world 
than that around IfHey Mill ? Or was it merely the glamor 
of tl’.e white day that rendered the place so lovely, and 
made us linger in the open stream to look at the mill and 
its surroundings ? As I write, there lies before me a pencil 
sketch of our BelFs, lightly dashed here and there with 
water-color, and the whole scene is recalled. There is the 
dilapidated old stone building, with its red tiles, its crum¬ 
bling })la8ter, its wooden projections, and small windows, half 
hidden amidst foliage. Farther down the river there are 
clumps of rounded elms visible ; but here around the mill 
the trees are chiefly poplars, of magnificent height, that 
stretch up lightly and gracefully into a quiet yellow sky, 
and throw gigantic lines of reflection down into the still 
water. Then out from .the mill a small island runs into the 
stream ; the woodwork of the sluice-gates bridges the inter¬ 
val ; there is a red cow amidst the green leafage of the 
island ; and here again are some splendid poplars rising 


OF A PHAETON. 


87 

pingly np from tlie river-side. Tlien beyond is another 
lioiiso, 1 lien a wooden bridge, and a low line of trees; and 
linallV the river, in a sharp curve, glimmers in the light and 
loses itself behind low-lying meadows and a marginal growth 
of willow and flag. 

b or very shame’s sake, the big lieutenant was forced to 
offer to take Tita’s oar, as we once more proceeded on our 
voyage ; but she definitely refused to endanger our lives by 
any such experiment. A similar offer on the part of Bell 
met with a similar fate. Indeed, when this little woman 
has once made up her mind to do a certain thing, the 
reserve of physical and intellectual vigor that lies within 
the slight frame and behind a smooth and gentle face shows 
itself to be extraordinary. Place before her some arith¬ 
metical conundrum that she must solve in order to question 
the boys, or give her an oar and engage her to pull for a 
certain number of miles, and the amount of patient per¬ 
severance and unobtrusive energy she will reveal will 
astonish most people. In the mean time, her task was 
easy. We were going with the stream. And so we glided 
on between the green banks, under the railway bridge, past 
the village of Kennington, past Rose Isle, with its bowers, 
and tables, and beer-glasses, and lounging young fellows in 
white trousers and blue jackets, and so on until we got up 
to Sandford Lock. Here also we fastened the boat to the 
bank, close by the mill, and went ashore for half an hour’s 
stroll. But while Tita made direct, as she generally does 
on entering a new village, for the church, the lieutenant 
went off in quest of beer; and when we came back to the 
boat, he had a wonderful story to tell us. He had made 
friends with some innkeeper or other, and had imbibed 
from him a legend which was a curious mixture of fact and 
inference and blunder. Von Rosen had doubtless mistaken 
much of the Oxfordshire patois; for how could any man 
niake a reasonable narrative out of the following? 

“And he told me it was a farmer’s house in the village 
—the village of Sandford, I suppose—-and while they took 
it down to repair it, they were lifting up the floors, and 
many strange things were there. And he said, among the 
nonsense and useless rubbish they were finding there, was 
a hat; and the man brought the hat down to him ; and he 
saw it was a chevalier’s hat—” 

“ A cavalier’s hat,” suggested Bell; and the lieutenant 
assented. 


8S 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“Tlicn the farmer went up to the house, and he found 
some hi<lden letters, and one was to Ettrick—to some 
soldier wlio was then on a campaign at the river Ettrick in 
the Nortli. And they found that it was in this very house 
that King’Charles the First did cut off his beard and mus- 
taclie—I suppose when he was flying from the Parliamen¬ 
tary army; but I am forgetting all about that history now, 
and the innkeeper was not sure about the battle. Well, 
tlien, tlie news was sent to London ; and a gentleman came 
down wlio is the only surviving descender—descendant—of 
King Charles, and lie took away the hat to London, and 
you Vill find it in the British Museum. It is a very curious 
story, and I would have come after you, and showed you 
the house; but I suppose it is a new liouse now, and 
nothing to look at. But do you know when the king was 
in this neighborhood in escaping?” 

Here was a poser for the women. 

“ I don’t remember,” says Tita, looking very profound, 
“ to have seen anything about Oxford in Lord Clarendon’s 
narrative of the king’s escape after the battle of Worces¬ 
ter.” 

“Mamma!” said Bell, in accents of reproach, “that 
was Charles the Second.” 

“To be sure it was,” returned Tita, with a gesture of 
impatience; “ and he couldn’t have come this way, for he 
went to Bristol. But Charles the First was continually at 
Oxford—he summoned the Parliament to meet him 
here—” 

“And shaved off his beard to curry favor with them,” 
it is suggested. 

“You needn’t laugh. Of course, when he was finally 
defeated, he fled from Oxford, and very probably disguised 
himself.” 

“And when did he fly, and whither?” 

“ To Scotland,” said Bell, triumphantly, “ and after the 
battle of Naseby.” 

“ Good girl. And where is Naseby ?” 

“Well, if he fled northeast from the Parliamentary 
army, Naseby must be in the southwest; and so I suppose 
it is somewhere down about Gloucester.” 

“ Herr Professor Oswald, where is Naseby?” 

“ 1 do not know,” says the lieutenant; “but I think it 
is more in the North, and not far from the country of your 


OF A PHAETON. 


89 


great man Hampden. But he was killed before tlion, I 
think.” 

“ And pray,” says Queen Tita, taking her seat, and ])ut- 
ting her oar into the rowlock, “ will you please tell me what 
you think of those men—of Cromwell and Hampden and 
those—and what your historians say of them in Germany V ” 

“ Why, they say all kinds of things about them,” said 
the lieutenant, lightly—not knowing that he was being 
questioned as a representative of the feudal aristocracy of 
a country in which the divine right of kings is su])posed to 
flourish—“just as your historians do here. But we know 
very well that England has got much of her liberty through 
that fight with the king, and yet you have been able to 
keep a balance, and not let the lowest classes run riot and 
destroy your freedom. They were ambitious? Yes. If 
a man is in politics, does not he fight hard to make his side 
win ? If he is a soldier, does not he like to be victorious? 
And if I could be King of England, do you not think I 
should like that very well, and try hard for it ? But if 
these men had their own ambitions, and wanted to get 
fame and honor, I am sure they had much of righteousness 
and belief, and would not have fought in that way and over¬ 
turned the king if they believed that was an injury to their 
religion. And besides, what could this man or that man 
have done excej^t he had a great enthusiasm of the nation 
behind him—if he did not represent a principle? But I 
have no right to speak of such things as if I were telling 
you of our German historians. That is only my guess, and 
I have read not much about it. But you must not suppose 
that because we in Germany have not the same political 
system that you have, that we cannot tell the value of yours, 
and the good it has done to the character of your people. 
Our German historians are many of them professors in uni¬ 
versities, and they spend their lives in finding out the truth 
of such things ; and do you think they care what may be 
the oj)inion of their own Government about it ? Oh no. 
They are very independent in the universities—much too 
independent, I think. It is very pleasant, when you are a 
very young man, to get into a university, and think your¬ 
self very wise, and go to extremes about politics, and say 
hard things of your own country; but when you come out 
into the world, and see how you have to keep your country 
from enemies that are not separated by the sea from you 
(as you are here in England), you see how bad arc these 


90 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


principles among young men, who do not like to be obedi¬ 
ent, and always want to hurry on new systems of govern¬ 
ment before such things are })0ssible. But you do not see 
much of those wild opinions when a war comes, and the 
young men arc marched together to save their country. 
Then they foiget all the democratic notions of this kind—it 
is their heart tliat speaks, and it is on fire—and not one is 
ashamed to be patriotic, though he may have laughed at it 
a week before.” 

“ It must be very hard,” said Bell, looking away at the 
river, “ to leave your liome and go into a foreign country, 
and know that you may never return.” 

“Oh no, not much,” said the lieutenant; for all your 
friends go witli you. And you are not always in danger— 
you have much entertainment at times, especially when 
some fight is over, and all your friends meet again to have 
a supper in the tent, and some one has got a bottle of cog¬ 
nac, and some one else has got a letter from home, full of 
gossip about ])eople you know very well. And there is 
much fun, too, in riding over the country, and trying to 
find food and quarters for yourself and your horse. We 
had many good parties in the deserted farm-houses, and 
sometimes we caught a hen or a duck that the peoj>le had 
neglected to take, and then we kindled a big fire, and killed 
liim, and fixed him on a lance and roasted him well, feathers 
and all. Then we were very lucky—to have a fire, and 
good meat, and a roof to keep off the rain. But it was 
more dangerous in a house—for it was difficult to keep from 
sleeping after you had got warm, and had eaten and drunk 
perhaps a little too much wine—and there were many peo¬ 
ple about ready to fire at you. But these are not heroic 
stories of a campaign, are they mademoiselle.” 

Nevertheless, mademoiselle seemed sufficiently inter¬ 
ested ; and as Tita and I pulled evenly back to Iffley and 
Oxford she continually brought the lieutenant back to this 
subject by a series of questions. This modern maiden was 
as anxious to hear of the amusements of patrols, and the 
hair-breadth escapes of dare-devil sub-lieutenants, as was 
Desdemona to listen to her lover's stories of battles, sieges, 
fortunes, and moving accidents by flood and field. 

That was a pleasant pull back to Oxford, in the quiet of 
the summer afternoon, with the yellow light lying warmly 
over the level meadows and the woods. There were more 
people now along the banks of the river—come out for the 


OF A FIIAETON. 


ft I 

most part in couples to wander along the pathway between 
the stream and the fields. Many of tliera had a good look 
at our bonny Bell; and the Kadley boys, as they sent their 
long boats spinning down the river towards Sandford, were 
apparently much struck. Bell, unconscious of the innocent 
admiration of those poor boys, was attending much more 
to the talk of our Uhlan than to her tiller-ropes. As for him 
—but what man would not have looked contented under 
these conditions—to be strong, healthy, handsome, and only 
twenty-five; to have comfortable means and an assured fu¬ 
ture ; to have come out of a long and dangerous campaign 
with honor and sound limbs ; to be off on a careless holiday 
tlirough the most beautiful country, take it for all in all, in 
the world; and to be lying lazily in a boat on a summer’s 
evening, on a pretty English river, with a pretty English 
girl showing her friendly interest and attention in every 
glance of her blue eyes ? 

You should have seen how naturally these two fell be¬ 
hind us, and formed a couple by themselves, when wc had 
left the boat and were returning to our inn. But as wo 
walked up to Carfax, Bell separated herself from us for a 
moment, and went into the post-office. She was a consider¬ 
able time there. When she came out, she was folding up a 
letter which she had been reading. 

“You have got your letter at last,” said Tita. 

“Yes,” said Bell, gravely, but showing no particular 
gladness or disappointment. 

At dinner she was rather reserved ; and so, curiously 
enough, was the lieutenant. After dinner, when we were 
allowed half an hour by ourselves for a cigar, he suddenly 
said,— 

“ Why do you not interfere with that stupid young fel¬ 
low ? ” 

“ AVho ? ” I asked, in blank amazement. 

“ Why, that young fellow at Twickenham ; it is quite 
monstrous, his impertinence. If I were the guardian of 
such a girl, I would kick him; I would throw him into the 
river, and cool him there.” 

“ Wliat in all the world do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, you must know. The letter that Miss Bell did 
ask for more than once, it is from him ; and now when it 
comes, it is angry, it is impertinent—she is nearly crying 
all the time at dinner. Sackerment I It is for some one 


92 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


to interfere, and save her from this insult—this persecu¬ 
tion—” 

“ Don’t bite your cigar to pieces, but tell mo, if you 
please, how you happen to know what was in the letter.” 

Slie told me,” said the lieutenant, sullenly. 

“AVhen?” 

“Just before you came down to dinner. It is no busi¬ 
ness of mine—no ; but when I see her vexed and disturbed, 
I asked her to tell me why; and tlien she said she had got 
tliis letter, which was a very cruel one to send. Oh, there 
is no mystery—none. I suppose he has a right marry licr— 
very well; but he is not married yet, and he must not be 
allowed to do this.” 

“ Bell at least might have told me of it, or have confided 
in Tita—” 

“ Oh, she is telling her now, I dare say. And she will 
tell you too, when there are not all of us present. It is 
no secret, or she would not have told me. Indeed, i think 
she was very sorry about that; but she was very much 
vexed, and I asked her so plain that she answered me. And 
tliat is much better to have confidenee between people, in¬ 
stead of keeping all such vexations to yourself. Then I ask 
her wliy he is angry, and slie says only because she has 
gone away. Pfiii! I have never lieard such nonsense ! ” 

“ My dear Oswald,” I say to him, “don’t you interfere 
between two young people who have fallen out, or you 
will suffer. Unless, indeed—” 

“Unless what?” 

“Unless they happen to be angels.” 

“ Do you know this—that he is coming to see her? ” 

“Well, the phaeton can hold five at a pinch. Why 
should not we have an addition to our party ? ” 

“ Very good. I do not care. But if he is rude to her, 
he will not be very long in the phaeton.” 

“Why, you stupid boy, you take tiiese lovers’ quarrels 
au grand serieiix. Do you tliink he has been positively 
rude to her? Nothing of the kind, lie has been too W(‘ll 
brouglit up for that, although he has a peevish temper, lie 
might be with us all through the journey—” 

“ ” exclaimed the count, with a kick at 

a cork that was lying on the carpet. 

“—And these two might be at daggers drawn, and you 
would see nothing of it. Indeed, young people never get 
extremely courteous to each other until they quarrel and 


OF A PHAETON. 


93 


stand on tlieir dignity. Now, if you had scon that letter, 
you would have found it respectful and formal in the high¬ 
est degree—perhaps a trifle sarcastic here and there, for the 
lad unhappily tliinks he has a gift that way—but you would 
find no rhetorical indignation or invective.” 
j The count tlirew his cigar into the grate. 

“ They will be waiting for us,” he said ; “ let us go.” 

We found Tita with the beziquc-cards spread out be-^ 
fore lier. Bell looked up with rather a frightened air, ap¬ 
parently conscious that the lieutenant was likely to liave 
spoken about what she had confided to him at the impulse 
of a momentary vexation. However, we sat down. 

The game was an open and palpable burlesque. Was 
Ferdinand very intent on giving checkmate when he played 
chess wuth Miranda in the cave; or was he not much more 
bent upon placing his king in extreme danger and offering 
his queen so that she had to be taken ? The audacious 
manner in wdiich this young lieutenant played his cards so 
as to suit Bell was apparent to every one, though no one 
dared speak of it, and Bell only blushed sometimes. When 
she timidly put forth a ten, he was sure to throw away an¬ 
other ten, although he had any amount of aces in his hand. 
He spoiled his best combinations rather than take tricks 
W’hcn it wms clear she wanted to lead. Nay, as he sat next 
to her, he undertook the duty of marking her various 
scores; and the manner in which the small brass hand 
went circling round the card was singular, until Tita sud¬ 
denly exclaimed,— 

“ Why, that is only a common marriage ! ” 

“ And* do you not count forty for a common marriage ? ” 
he said, with a fine assumption of innocent w'onder. 

Such w^as the ending of our first day’s rest; and then, 
just before candles were lighted, a cabinet council was 
licld to decide whether, on the morrow, we should choose 
as our halting-place Moreton-in-the-Marsh or Bourton-on- 
tho-llill. The more elevated site won the day. 


94 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CHAPTER VII r. 

NEAR WOODSTOCK TOWN. 

'In olde (layes of the king Arthohr, 

Of which that Britons speako great hone ft r, 

All was this land full filled of faerie ; 

The Elf-queen, with her jolly company, 

Danced full oft in many a green mead. 

This was the old opinion, as I read ; 

I speak of many a liundred yearcs ago ; 

But now can no man see no elves mo’.” 

The phaeton stood in the High Street of Oxford. Cas¬ 
tor and Pollux, a trifle impatient after the indolence of the 
day before, were pawing the hard stones, their silken coats 
shining in the morning sunliglit; Queen Titania had tlie 
]-eins in her hands; the tall waiter, who had been a circus- 
rider, was ready to smile us an adieu; and we were all 
waiting for the lieutenant, who had gone off in search of a 
map that Bell had forgotten. 

If tliere is one thing more than another likely to ruffle 
the superhuman sweetness of my lady’s temper, it is to be 
kept waiting in a public thoroughfare with a pair of rather 
restive horses under lier charge. I begun to fear for that 
young man. Tita turned once or twice to the entrance of 
the hotel; and at last she said, with an ominous politeness 
in her tone, 

“It does seem to me singular that Count Yon Rosen 
should be expected to look after sucli things. He is our 
guest. It is no compliment to give him tlie duty of attend¬ 
ing to our luggage.” 

“My dear,” said Bell, leaning over, and speaking in 
very penitent tones, “ it is entirely my fault. I am very 
sorry.” 

“ I think lie is much too good-natured,” says Tita, coldly. 

At this Bell rather recedes, and says, with almost equal 
coldness,— 

“lam sorry to have given liim so much trouble. In 
future 1 shall try to do without his help.” 

But 'when the count did appear—when he took his scat 
beside Tita, and we rattled up the High Street and round 
by the Corn Market, and past Magdalen Church, and so 


OF A PHAETON. 


05 


out by St. Giles’s Road, the remembrance of this little pre¬ 
liminary skirmish speedily passed away. For once more 
we seemed to have left towns and streets behind us, and 
even while there were yet small villas and gardens by the 
side of the road, the air that blew about on this bright 
morning seemed to have a new sweetness in it, and the 
freshness and pleasant odors of innumerable woods and 
fields. There was quite a bright light, too, in Bell’s face. 
She had come downstairs with an obvious determination 
to cast aside the remembrance of that letter. There was 
something even defiant in the manner in which she said—in 
strict confidence, be it observed—that if Arthur Ashburton 
did intend to come and meet us in some town or other, 
there was no use in being vexed about it in the mean time. 
AV^e were now getting into the open country, where pur¬ 
suit would be in vain. If he overtook us, it would bo 
through the mechanism of railways. His only chance of 
obtaining an interview with Bell was to lie in wait for us in 
one of the big towns through which we must pass. 

“ But why,” said the person to whom Bell revealed these 
matters, “ why should you be afraid to meet Arthur ? You 
have not quarrelled with him.” 

“No,” said Bell, looking down. 

“ You have done nothing that he can object to.” 

“He has no right to object, whatever I may do,” she 
said,” with a gentle firmness. “ But, you know,he is annoy¬ 
ed, and you cannot reason with him ; and 1 am sorry f«u* 
him—and—and—and what is the name of this little vill.ige 
on the left ?” 

Bell seemed to shake off this subject from her, as too 
vexatious on such a fine and cheerful morning. 

“ That is AYollvercot; and there is the road that leads 
down to Godstow and the ruins of Godstow Nunnery, in 
which Rosamond Clifford lived and died.” 

“ And 1 suppose she rode along this very highway,” said 
Bell, “ with people wondering at her beauty and her jewels, 
when she used to live at Woodstock. Yet it is a very or¬ 
dinary-looking road.” 

Then she touched Tita on the shoulder. 

“Arc we going to stop at Blenheim?” she asked. 

“ I suppose so,” said our driver. 

“I think we ought not,” said Bell; “ we shall be greatly 
disappointed, if we do. For who cares about the Duke^ of 
Marlborough, or Sir John Vanbrugh’s architecture? You 


90 


THE S TEA AGE ADFENTUEES 


know you will be looking about the trees for the old knight 
witli the white beard, and for Alice Lee, and for j)retty 
l^hoebe Mayflower, and for Wildrake and the soldiers. 
Wouldn’t it be better to go past the walls, Tita, and fancy 
that all these old friends of ours are still walking about 
inside in their picturesque costume? If we go inside, we 
shall only find an empty park and a big house, and all those 
people gone away, just like the fairies who used to be in the 
woods.” 

“But what are the people you arc speaking of ? ” said 
the count. “ Is it from history, or from a romance ? ” 

“ I am not quite sure,” said Bell, “ how much is history, 
and how much is romance; but I am sure we know the 
])eople very well; and very strange things happened inside 
tlie park that we shall pass by and by. There was a pretty 
young lady living there, and a very sober and staid colonel 
was her lover. The brother of this young lady was much 
attached to the fortunes of the Stewarts, and he brought 
the young Prince Charles in disguise to the house ; and all 
the gratitude shown by the prince was that he began to 
amuse himself by making love to the sister of the man who 
liad risked his life to save him. And of course the grave 
colonel discovered it, and he even drew his sword upon 
Prince Charles—” 

“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant, 
“but do not trouble to tell me the story; for I know it very 
well. I did read it in Germany years ago ; and I think if 
Colonel Esmond had thrashed the prince—” 

“ Oh no you are mistaken,” said Bell, with some wonder ; 
“ it is Colonel Markham, not Colonel Esmond ; and the 
brother of the young lady succeeded in getting the prince 
away just before Cromwell had time to seize him.” 

“ Cromwell 1 ” said our lieutenant, thoughtfully. “ Ah, 
then it is another stoi*y. But I agree with you, made¬ 
moiselle : if you believe in these people very much, do not 
go into the park, or you will be disappointed.” 

“ As you please,” said Tita, with a smile. I began to 
observe that when the two young folks agreed about any¬ 
thing, my lady became nothing more than an echo to their 
wishes. 

At length we came to the walls that surrounded the 
great park. Should we leave all its mysteries unexplored ? 
If one were to clamber up, and peep over, might not strange 
figures be seen, in buff coats and red, with bandoleers and 


OF A PHAETON. 


G7 


lielmets; and an aged knight with a laced cloak, slashed 
boots, and long sword ; countrywomen in white hoods and 
black gowns ; divines with tall Presbyterian hats and solemn 
visage ; a braggart and drunken soldier of tlie king; and a 
colonel the servant of Cromwell ? Or might not Queen 
Elizabeth be descried, looking out as a prisoner on the fair 
domains around her? Or might not Chaucer be found 
loitering under those great trees that he loved and celebra¬ 
ted in his verse? Or behind that splendid wall of chestnuts 
and elms, was it not possible that Fair Rosamond herself 
might be walking all alone, passing like a glem of light 
tlirough the green shadows of the trees, or sitting by 
the well that still bears her name, or reading in the heart of 
that bower that was surrounded by cunning ways? Was 
it along this road that Eleanor came ? Or did Rosamond, 
surviving all her sin and her splendor, sometimes walk this 
way with her sister-nuns from Godstow, and think of the 
time when she was mistress of a royal palace and this spa¬ 
cious park ? 

We drove into the town of Woodstock. The handful of 
houses thrown into the circular hollow that is cut in two by 
the river Glym was as silent as death. In the broad street 
that plunged down into the valley, scarcely a soul was to be 
seen ; and even about the old town-hall there were only 
some children visible. Had the play been played out, and 
the actors gone forever ? When King Henry was fighting 
in France or in Ireland, doubtless Rosamond, left all by her¬ 
self, ventured out from the park, and walked down into the 
small town, and revealed to the simple folks the wonders of 
her face, and talked to them. No mortal woman could 
have remained in a bower month after month without seeing 
any one but her attendants. Doubtless, too, the people in 
this quaint little town were very loyal towards her, and 
would have espoused her cause against a dozen Eleanors. 
And so it happened, possibly, that when the romance came 
to an end, and Rosamond went to hide her shame and her 
penitence in the nunnery of Godstow, all the light and color 
went out of Woodstock, and left it dull, and gray, silent as 
it is to this day. 

The main street of Woodstock, that dips down to the 
banks of the Glym, rises as abruptly on the other side ; and 
once past the turnpike, the highway runs along an elevated 
ridge, which on the one side is bounded by a continuation 
of Blenheim Park, and, on the other, slopes down to a broad 


OS 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


vxtciit of level meadows. When we had got up to this 
liigher ground, and found before us an illimitable stretch of 
country, with ourselves as the only visible inhabitants, the 
lieutenant managed to introduce a remote hint about a song 
which he had heard Bell humming in the morning. 

“I think it was about Woodstock,” he said; “and if 
you will please to sing it now as we go along, 1 shall get 
out for you the guitar.” 

• “ If you Avill be so kind,” said Bell, quite submissively. 

What had become of the girl’s independence ? Asked 
to sing a song at great trouble to herself—for who cares to 
}'lay a guitar in the back-seat of a phaeton, and witli two pairs 
of wheels rumbling an accompaniment ?—she meekly thanks 
liim for suggesting itl Nay, it was becoming evident that 
the girl was schooling herself into docility. She had almost 
dropped entirely the wild phrases and startling metaphors 
that so deeply shocked Tita. Sometimes they dropped out 
inadvertently; and sometimes, too, she gave way to those 
impulsive imaginative flights that led her unthinkingly 
into an excitement of talk which Tita used to regard with 
a sort of amused wonder. But of late all these things were 
gradually disappearing, She was less abrupt, independent, 
wayward in her manner. She waited more patiently to 
receive suggestion from others. She was becoming a good 
listener; and she received meekly criticisms that would, 
but a short time before, have driven her into a proud and 
defiant silence, or provoked some rejoinder a good deal 
more apt than gentle. It was very odd to mark this amia¬ 
ble self-discipline struggling with her ordinary frank im¬ 
petuosity ; although sometimes, it is true, the latter had the 
best of it. 

On this occasion, when the lieutenant had jumped down 
and got out the guitar for lier, she took it very obediently; 
and then Tita rested the horses for a little while under the 
shadow of some overhanging trees. Of course you know 
the ballad that Bell naturally turned to, seeing where she 
was at the moment, and the sort of music she was most 
familiar with. 

“Near Woodstock town I chanced to stray, 

When birds did sing and fields were gay, 

And by a glassy river’s side 
A weeping damsel I espied.” 

This was w’hat she sung, telling the story of the forlorn 


OF A PHAETON. 


99 


maiclen who was found weeping for her faithless lover, who 
only wished that he might come and visit her grave, and 
think of her as “one who loved, but could not hate.” Per¬ 
haps this old-fashioned ballad is not a masterly composition ; 
but the music of it is expressive enough ; and we who were 
familiar wdth Bell’s ballads had got into a habit of not caring 
much what she sung, as long as she only continued singing, 

“ You would make your fortune by singing,” said Tita, 
as Bell finished, and the horses were sent forward. 

“ Perhaps,” said the girl, “ if all my audience were like 
you. But I think you must have been lent out as an in¬ 
fant to an old woman with an organ, and so, by merely sit¬ 
ting on the vibrating wood, you^have become so sensitive 
to music that anything at all pleases you.” 

“ No, mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant, “ you do 
yourself an injustice. I never heard a voice like yours, that 
has the tremble of a zither in it, and is much softer than a 
zither. 

Bell blushed deeply ; but, to conceal her embarrassment, 
she said lightly to Tita. 

“ And how am I to make my fortune ? Oh, I know— 
by coming in after public dinners, to sing grace, and fol¬ 
low the toast with a glee. I am in white silk, with a blue 
ribbon round my neck, white gloves, bracelets, and a sheet 
of music. There is an eldcHy lady in black velvet and 
white pearls, who smiles in a pleasant manner—she sings, 
and is much admired by the long rows of gentlemen—they 
have just dined, you know, and are very nice and amiable. 
Then there is the tenor—fair and smooth, with diamond 
rings, a lofty expression, and a cool and critical eye, that 
shows he is quite accustomed to all this. Then there is 
the stout, red-bearded man who sings bass, and plays the 
piano for the four of us, and is very fierce in the way he 
thumps out his enthusiasm about the queen, and the navy: 
and the army, and the volunteers. What a happ^ way of 
living that must be! They will give us a nice dinner be¬ 
forehand—in a room by ourselves, perhaps; and all we 
have to do is to return thanks for it in an emotional way, 
so that all the w'aiters shall stand round in a reverential 
manner. But when that is over, then we introduce a few 
songs, sprightly, coquettish songs, and the gentlemen are 
vastly amused—and you think—” 

“ Well, what do you think ? ” said I, seeing that Bell 
rather hesitated. 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


no 

“ I think,” sfiid Tita, with a smile, “ that you are very 
ungenerous, Bell, in remembering so much of what you 
saw the other night from the gallery of The Freemasons’ 
Tavern. Is it fair to recall, in open daylight, in the cool 
forenoon, the imbecile goodnature and exuberant loyalty 
of a lot of gentlemen who have just dined? I wonder how 
many of the husbands there told their wives what suras they 
signed away under the influence of the wine ?” 

“ I dare say,” says, one of the party, “ that the wives 
would be sorry to see so much money go in charity which 
might otherwise have been squandered in millinery and 
extravagances.” 

“ Don’t be ill-tempered, my dear,” says Queen Tita, 
graciously. “ Women are quite as charitable as men ; and 
they don’t need a guinea dinner to make them think of 
other people; That is a sort of charity that begins at 
home. Pray how much did you put down?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ I thought so. Go to a charity dinner, enjoy yourself, 
and come away without giving a farthing! You would 
not find women doing that.” 

“ Only because they have not the courage.” 

“ They have plenty of courage in other directions—in 
getting married, for example, when they know what men 
are.” 

Knowing that, is it not a pity they choose to make 
martyrs of themselves? Indeed, their anxiety to become 
martyrs is astonishing. But what if I say that in the next 
published list of subscriptions you will find my name down 
for about as much as your last millinery bill came to ? ” 

“ I think that a great deal more likely, for I know the 
state of philanthropy into which men get at a public din¬ 
ner—fathers of families, who ought to remember their own 
responsibilities, and who are impatient enough if any extra 
bit of comfort or kindness is wanted for their own kith 
and kin.” 

“ Some such trifling matter as a fur cloak, for instance, 
that is bought out of a Brighton shop-window for sixty- 
five guineas and is only worn twice or thrice, because some 
other woman has the neighbor of it.” 

“ That is not true. You know the weather changed.” 

“ The weather! what weather ? Were you at Brighton 
at the time ? ” 

Titania did not reply for a considerable time. Perhaps 


OF A P/IAETOFT. 


101 


slie was tliinkitig of some crusliing epigram; but at all 
events Bell endeavored to draw her away from the subject 
by pointing out another river, and asking whether this or 
the Glym at Woodstock was the stream associated witli tlie 
“ Oxfordshire Tragedy ” she had just been singing. We 
discovered, however, that this small stream was also the 
Glym, which here winds round and through the marshy 
country that Thomas Wharton described.* Bell came to 
the conclusion that the banks by the riv^r at this part were 
not sufficiently picturesque for the scene of the song, where 
the lovelorn heroine sits and weeps by a glassy stream, 
and complains that her lover is now wooing another maid. 

Meanwhile, my lady had given expression to the rebel¬ 
lious thoughts passing through her mind by admonishing 
Castor and Pollux slightly; and tliese, accordingly, were 
going forward at a rattling pace. We rushed through 
Enstone. We dashed along the level highway that lies on 
the high ground between the Charlford Farms and Iley- 
throp Park. We sent the dust flying behind us in clouds 
as we scudded down to Chipping Norton ; and there, with a 
lino sweep, we cantered up the incline of the open square, 
clattered over tlie stones in front of The White Hart Inn, 
and pulled up with a noise that considerably astonished the 
quiet village. 

This large open space gives to Chipping N'orton a light 
and agreeable appearance ; and on entering the big tall inn 
that looks down over the square, we found everything very 
cleanly, bright, and comfortable. The very maid-servant 
who served us with lunch was a model of maid-servants, 
and was a very handsome young woman besides, with shin- 
ing light-blue eyes and yellow hair. The lieutenant at 
once entered into a polite conversation with her, and she 
informed him, in answer to his respectful inquiries, that she 
had just come from Folkestone. 

* ‘‘ Within some whispering osier isle, 

"Where Glym’s low banks neglected smile ; 

And each trim meadow still retains 
The wintery torrent’s oozy stains ; 

Beneath a willow, long forsook, 

The fisher seeks his custom’d nook ; 

And bursting through the crackling sedge 
That crowns the current’s caverned edge, 

He startles from the bordering wood 
The bashful wild-duck’s early brood.’* 

Ode to the First of April. 


102 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ From Folkestone! that is a seaport—a busy place—a 
large town, is it not ? ” 

“ Yes, there was some business doing there,” said tlic 
maid, with an inflection of voice which rather cast discredit 
on Chipping Norton. 

“ Don't you find this place dull ? ” he asked. 

“Well, I can’t say the people seem to worry themselves 
much,” she replied, with a slight curl of the lip. 

“ That is very good for the health.” said the count, 
gravely. “ Now I do think you have a very nice and even 
temper, that does not irritate you—” 

But here my lady and her companion came into the 
room, and the conversation ceased ; for the lieutenant had 
at once to spring up and take charge of the books, maps, 
and scarfs that Bell had brought in with her. And then, 
when we sat down to lunch, be was entirely engrossed in 
attending to her wants, insomuch that he was barely civil 
to the more elderly lady who had from the first been his 
champion. As for Bell, what had become of her dislike to 
officers, her antipathy to the German race, her horror of 
Uhlans. That very morning I had heard on good authority 
that Bell had been asking in confidence whether England 
did not owe a great debt to Germany for the gift of Pro¬ 
testantism which that country hnd sent us. “ And were 
not the Prusians mostly Protestant ? ” asked Bell. What 
answer was returned I do not know ; for Queen Titania is 
strong on the point that the word “ Protestant ” is not 
Scriptural. 

“ But I have quite forgotten to tell you,” remarked the 
lieutenant, “ that this morning, when I was walking about in 
Oxford, I came into the theatre. I saw some bills up ; I 
went along a strange passage; I found an iron gate, and 
much lime and stone, and things like that. A man came— 
I asked him if I could see the theatre, and he took me into 
the place, which they are repairing now. Oh, it is a very 
dingy place—small, tawdry, with ridiculous scenes, and the 
decorations of the galleries very amusing and dirty. Why, 
in an old city, with plenty of rich and intelligent people, 
you have such a pitiful little theatre ?—it is only fit for a 
country green and wandering actors. In a great university 
town, you should have the theatre supported by the colleges 
and the bequests, and hire good actors, and play all the 
best dramas of your great writers. That would be a good 
education—that would be a good compliment to pay to 


OF A PHAETON. 


103 


your great dramatists. But here, in a city where youliave 
much learning, much money, much of your young men of 
good families being educated, you have only a dingy, small 
siiow, and I suppose it is farces they play, and wretched 
dramas, for the townspeople and the farmers. That is not 
much respect shown to your best authors by your learned 
institutions.” 

“No wonder students find the milliners’ shops more 
attractive,” said Tita, with a smile. 

“ But I think there is always much interest in an empty 
theatre,” continued the lieutenant. “I did go all over this 
])()or little building, and saw how it imitated the deceptions 
of fine theatres in a coarse manner. I saw the rude scenes, 
the bad traps, the curious arrangements, which I do not 
think can differ much from the theatre which Shakspeare 
himself described, where a man was made to represent a 
city, if 1 am right.” 

“You are familiar with the arrangements of a theatre, I 
suppose? ” I say to the lieiUenant. 

“Pray tell me if you sdw anything else in Oxford this 
morning,” says Tita, hastily. 

“I suppose you could produce a pantomime yourself,” 
I observe to the young man. 

“ Did you visit any more of the colleges ?” said Tita, 
at the same moment. 

“ Or get up a ballet ? ” 

“ Or go down to the Isis again ? ” 

Von Rosen was rather bewildered; but at last be 
stammered out,— 

“ No, madam, I did not go down to the river this 
morning. I walked from the theatre to the hotel; for I 
remained much too long in the theatre. Yes, I know some¬ 
thing about the interior of theatres. I have been great 
fiiends with the managers and actors, and took ^eat 
interest in it. I used to be much behind the stage—every 
night at some times: and that is very curious to a young 
man who likes to know more than other people, and thinks 
liimself wise not to believe in delusions. I think it is 
Goethe who has made many of our young men like to know 
stage-managers, and help to arrange pieces. But I find 
that they always end by being very much in love with one 
of the young ladies, and then they get not to like the theatres, 
for they do not wish everybody to admire her and be 
allowed to look at her. This is very good for the theatre, 


101 


Tim STRANGE ADVENTURES 


however ; for tliey take many boxes, and ask their friends 
to accompany them, and that pays better than to let out 
the seats by the year to families. Some of the young men 
make light of this ; others are more melancholy, but after¬ 
ward they have much interest in some theatres merely for 
the sake of the old associations.” 

“ Oh, Bell,” exclaimed Tita, turning anxiously to our 
companion, “ did you see that your guitar was properly put 
away, or has it been left lying open in the phaeton ? ” 

“ 1 did put it away, madame,” said the lieutenant. 

‘‘ Oh, thank you,” said Tita. “ I am sure if some of 
those hostlers were to have their curiosity aroused, we 
should have no more music all the journey.” 

And thus, having got the lieutenant away from ram¬ 
bling reminiscences of theatres, the little woman took very 
good care he should not return to them ; and so we finished 
luncheon without any catastrophe having happened. Bell 
had been sitting very quietly during these revelations, 
scarcely lifting her eyes from the table, and maintaining an 
appearance of studied indifference. Why should she care 
about the mention of any actress, or any dozen of actresses ? 
My lady’s anxiety was obviously unnecessary. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A MOONLIGHT NIGHT. 

“ Till the livelong daylight fail; 

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 

With stories told of many a feat. 

How faery Mab the junkets eat." 

Chipping Norton is supplied with all the comforts of 
life. Before leaving for the more inhospitable regions in which 
we are to pass the night, we take a leisurely walk through 
the curious little town, that is loosely scattered over the 
side of a steep slope. Here civilization has crowded all its 
results together; and Queen Tita is asked whether she 
could not forsake the busy haunts of men, and exchange 
that hovering between Leatherhead and London, which 



OF A PHAETON. 


105 


constitute her existence, for a plain life in tins small coun¬ 
try town. 

“ Chemists’ shops abound. There is a subscription read¬ 
ing-room. There are co-operative stores. A theatre invites 
you to amusement. You may have Lloyd’s LTews^ various 
sorts of sewing machines, and the finest sherry from the 
wood—” 

“Along with the Wesleyan chapel,” she says, with a 
supercilious glance at tlie respectable if somewhat dull-look- 
ing little building that fronts the main street. 

There is no reply possible to this ungracious sneer; for 
Avho can reason, as one of us hints to her, with a woman 
who would spend a fortune in incense, if only slie had it, 
and who would rejoice to run riot in tall candles? 

Bell takes us away from Chipping Norton, the lieutenant 
sitting beside her to moderate the vehemence of lier pace 
in the event of her getting into a difficulty. First the road 
dips down by a precipitous street, then it crosses a hollow, 
in which there are some buildings of a manufactory, a tiny 
river, and a strip of common or meadow, and then it as¬ 
cends to the high country beyond by a steep hill. On the 
summit of this hill we give the horses a rest for a few seconds, 
and turn to look at the small town that lies underneath us 
in the valley. There is a faint haze of blue smoke rising 
from the slates and tiles. The deadened tolling of a bell 
marks the conclusion of another day’s labor: for already 
the afternoon is wearing on apace; and so wo turn west¬ 
ward again, and set out upon the lofty highway that winds 
onward towards the setting sun. Small hamlets fringe the 
road at considerable intervals, while elsewhere our route 
lies between stretches of heath and long fields. And still 
the highway ascends, until we reach the verge of a great 
slope ; and, behold ! there lies before us a great landscape, 
half in gloom, half in the dusky yellow light of the evening. 
And over there, partly shutting out the dark lines of hills in 
the west, a great veil of rain stretches from the sky to the 
earth, and through it the sun is shining as through ground 
glass. But so far away is this pale sheet of yellow mist, 
that we seem to be above it, and over the level and dark 
landscape on which it descends; and, indeed, where this 
veil ends, the sunlight sends forth long shafts of radiance 
that light up level tracts of the distant and wooded country, 
hat fate is to befal us when we get down into this plain. 


106 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


and go forward in search of the unknown hostlery at which 
we are to pass the night? 

“ I hope the rain will not spread,” says Bell, who had 
been telling us of all the wonders we should find at Bourton- 
on-the-Hill; “but even if it does rain to-night, we shall be 
as well off on a hill as in a swamp.” 

“But at Moreton-in-the-Marsli,” says Tita, “ there is sure 
to be a comfortable inn, for it is a big place ; whereas 
Bourton-on-the-IIill appears to be only a small village, and 
we may find there only a public-house.” 

“ But suppose it should clear ? ” says Bell. “ Tlie moon 
will be larger to-night, and then we can look down on all 
this level country from the top of the hill. We have not 
had a night-walk for a long time, and it will be so much 
more pleasant than being down in the mists of a marsh.” 

“ And you are prepared to sleep on a couple of chairs in 
the smoking-room of a public-house ? ” I ask of Miss Bell. 

“I dare say we shall get accommodation of some kind,” 
she replies, meekly. 

“ Oh, I am quite sure mademoiselle is right; there is so 
much more adventure in going to this small j^lace on the 
top of a hill,” cried the lieutenant. 

Of course mademoiselle was right. Mademoiselle was 
always right now. And when that was understood, Queen 
Titania never even attempted to offer an objection, so that 
in all affairs pertaining to our trip the rude force of num¬ 
bers triumphed over the protests of an oppressed and long- 
suffering minority. 

But only change the relative positions, and then what a 
difference there was ! When the lieutenant hinted in the 
remotest way that Bell might do so and so with the liorses, 
she was all attention. For the first time in her career she 
allowed the interests of justice to moderate her partiality 
for Pollux. That animal, otherwise the best of horses, was 
a trifle older than his companion, and had profited by his 
years so far as to learn a little cunning. He had got into a 
trick, accordingly, of allowing Castor—the latter being 
younger and a good deal “ freer”—to take more than his 
share of the work. Pollux liad acquired the art of looking 
as if lie were perpetually straining at the collar, while all 
tlie time he was letting his neighbor exercise to the full that 
willingness which was his chief merit. Now Bell had never 
interfered to alter this unequal division of labor. Queen 
Tita knew well how to make the older norse do his fair 


O/^ A PHAETON, 


107 


sliarc; but Bell encouragecl him in his idleness, and per¬ 
mitted his companion to work out of all reason. Now, 
however, when the lieutenant pointed out the different ac¬ 
tion of the horses, and said she should moderate the efforts 
of the one, while waking up the other to a sense of his du¬ 
ties, she was quite obedient. When the whip was used at 
all—which was seldom enough, for both horses were sulli- 
ciently free—it was Pollux that felt the silk. The lieutenant 
fancied he was giving Bell lessons in driving, whereas he 
was only teaching her submissiveness. 

The golden sheet of rain had disappeared in the west, 
and the yellow light had sunk farther and farther down be¬ 
hind far banks of dark cloud. A gray dusk was falling 
over the green landscape, and the birds were growing mute 
in the woods and the hedges. In the pervading silence we 
heard only the patter of tlie horses’ feet and the light roll¬ 
ing of the phaeton, as we sped onward down the long slopes 
and along the plain. We passed Four-shire-Stone, the ad¬ 
jacent shires being Worcester, Warwick, Gloucester, and 
Oxford ; and then, getting on by a piece of common, we 
rattled into a long and straggling village, with one or two 
large and open thoroughfares. 

Moreton-in-thc-Marsh was asleep, and we left it asleep. 
Tliere were still a few men lounging about the corner public- 
house, but the women and children had all retired into their 
cottages from the chill night-air. In some of the windows 
the light of a candle was visible. The dark elm.s behind 
the houses were growing darker. 

Between Moreton and Bourton you plunge still deeper 
into this great and damp valley, and the way lies through 
a rich vegetation which seems to have thriven well in this 
low situation. The hedges along the roadside are magnifi¬ 
cent ; the elms behind them constitute a magnificent avenue 
extending for nearly a couple of miles; all around arc dense 
woods. As we drove rapidly through this country, it 
almost seemed as though we could see the white mists 
around us, although the presence of the vapor was only 
known to us by the chilling touch of the air. On this July 
night wc grew cold. Tita liopcd there would be a fire at 
tlie hostelry on the top of the mountain, and she besought 
Bell to inufilc iij) her throat, so that wc should not bo do- 
prived of our ballads by the way. 

At last Avo beheld the hill before us. 

“It is not very like the Nicssen,” says Tita. 


108 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ But I liave no doubt there is very good inn at tlie top,” 
remarks the lieutenant; “ for after this hid the people would 
naturally stop to rest tlieir horses.” 

“ And we shall get up to see the sun rise, as we did on 
the Niessen?” asks Bell, with a fine innocence; for she 
knows the oj)inions of some of us on the subject of early 
rising. “ Do you remember the fat little woman who had 
Avalked up all by herself in the morning, and aj)pealed to 
us all to tell her the names of the mountains, that she might 
write them down ? ” 

“ And how oddly she turned up again at nearly every 
railway-station we stopped at, with all Iier luggage around 
licr ! ” says Tita. 

“I believe,” says Bell, “ she is still sailing all through 
Europe on a shoal of bandboxes and portmanteaus. I wish 
I could draw the fat little woman balancing herself in that 
circle of luggage, you know, and floating about comfortably 
and placidly like a bottle bobbing about in the sea. She 
may have drifted up to St. Petersburg by this time.” 

“I think toe have,” says the lieutenant, who is leading 
the horses up the steep hill, and who rubs his chilled hands 
front time to time. 

We reach the centre of the straggling line of houses 
which must be Bourton, and, behold! there is no inn. In 
the dusk we can descry the tower of a small church, and 
licre the cottages thicken into the position which ouglit to 
be dominated by an inn, but there is no sign of any such 
thing. Have we climbed this precipitous steep, and have 
Castor and Pollux laboriously dragged our phaeton and 
luggage up, all for nothing? The count asks a startled 
villager, who points to a wayside house standing at the 
liigher extremity of the row. Where is the familiar sign¬ 
board, or the glowing bar, or the entrance to the stables ? 
Von Rosen surrenders his charge of the horses, and walks 
into the plain-looking house. It is an inn. We begin to 
perceive in the dusk that a small board over the doorway 
bears the name of “ Seth Dyde.” We find, however, in¬ 
stead of a landlord, a landlady—a willing, anxious, ener¬ 
getic woman, who forthwith sets to work to take our jiarty 
into this odd little place. For dinner or supper, just as we 
choose to call it, she will give us ham and eggs, with either 
tea or beer. She will get two bedrooms for us; and j>er- 
haps the single gentleman will accept a shake-down in the 
parlor. In that room a fire is lighted in a trice ; a lamj) is 


OF A FI/AFTOA^. 


109 


brought in; and presently the cheerful blaze in the huge 
fireplace illuminates the curious old-fashioned chamber, with 
its carpets, and red tablecloth, and gloomy furniture. A 
largo tray appears, an ornamental teapot is produced. 
Sounds are heard of attendants whipping through tlio place 
—so anxious and so dextrous is this good woman. And 
Queen Tita, who is merciless in one respect, examines the 
cups, saucers, forks, and knives, and deigns to express her 
sense of the creditable cleanliness and order of the solitary 
inn. 

Meanwhile, the horses. 

“ Oh,” says the lieutenant, coming in out of the dark, 
“ I have found a famous fellow—the first man I have seen in 
England who does his work well with grooming a horse, lie 
is an excellent fellow—I have seen nothing like it^ The 
horses are well off this night, I can assure you; you wdll 
see how good they look to-morrow morning.” 

“It is strange so good an hostler should be found here,” 
remarks Tita. 

“ But he is not an hostler,” replies the lieutenant, rub¬ 
bing his hands at the fire ; “ he is a groom to some gentleman 
near. The liostlcr is away. He does his work as a favor, 
and he does it so that I think the gentleman must keep 
some racing-horses.” 

“ How do you manage to find out all these things about 
the people you meet ? ” asked Titaiiia, with a gracious smile. 

“ Find out!” replied the tall young man, with his blue 
eyes staring. “ I do not think I find out any more than 
others. It is people talk to you. And it is better to know 
a little of a man you give your horses to—and there is some 
time to talk when you are seeing after the horses—and so 
—that is perhaps why they tell me.” 

“ But you have not to see about your horses 'when you 
are in a bookseller’s shop at nine in the morning, and the 
young lady there tells you about the milliners’ shops and 
the students,” says my lady. 

• “ Oh, slie was a very nice girl,” remarks the lieutenant, 

as if that wmre sufficient explanation. 

“But you talk to every one,'whether they are young 
ladies, or innkeepers, or grooms: is it to perfect your pro¬ 
nunciation of English ? ” 

“ Yes, that is it,” said the young man, probably glad to 
arrive at any solution of the problem, 

“ Then you ought not to speak to hostlers.’ 


110 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ But there is no hostler who talks so very bad as I do 
—I know it is very, very bad—” 

“ I am sure you are mistaken,’’ says Bell, quite warmly, 
but looking down ; “ I think you speak very good English 
—and it is a most difficult language to pronounce— and I 
am sure there are few Germans who can speak it as freely 
as you can.” 

“All that is a very good compliment, mademoiselle,” he 
said, with a laugh that caused Bell to look rather embar¬ 
rassed. “ I am very glad if I could think that, but it is 
impossible. And as for freedom of speaking—oh yes, you 
can speak freely, comfortably, if you arc going about the 
country, and meeting strangers, and talking to any one, and 
not caring whether you mistake or not; but it is different 
when you are in a room with very polite English ladies who 
are strangers to you—and you are introduced—and you do 
not know how to say those little sentences that are 
proper to the time. That is very difficult, very annoying. 
But it is very suri)rising the number of your English ladies 
who have learned German at school; while the French 
ladies, they know nothing of that, or of anything that is 
outside I’aris. 1 do think them the most useless of women 
—very nice to look at, and very charming in their ways, 
perhaps—but not sensible, honest, frank like the English¬ 
women, and not familiar with the seriousness of the world, 
and not ready to see the troubles of other people. But 
your Englishwoman who is very frank to be amused, and 
can enjoy herself when there is a time for that—who is gen¬ 
erous in time of trouble, and is not afraid, and can be liiau 
and active and yet very gentle, and who does not think 
always of herself, but is ready to help other people, and can 
look after a house, and manage affairs—that is a better kind 
of woman, I think—more to be trusted, more of a compan¬ 
ion—oh, there is no comparison ! ” 

All this time the lieutenant was busy stirring up the fire, 
and placing huge lumps of coal on the top; and he had ob¬ 
viously forgotten that he was saying these things to two 
Englishwomen. Tita seemed rather amused, and kept look¬ 
ing at Bell; Bell said nothing, but pretended to be arranging 
the things on the table. When the lieutenant came buck 
from the fire, he had apparently forgotten his complimen¬ 
tary speech, and was regarding with some curiosity the 
mighty dish of ham and eggs that liad come in for our sujv 
per. 


OF A PHAETON. 


Ill 


That was a very comfortable and enjoyable repast. 
When the chill of driving through the fogs ot the plain had 
worn off, we found that it was not so very cold up here on 
tlie hill. A very liberal and honest appetite seemed to pre¬ 
vail ; and there was a tolerable attack made on the ample 
display of ham and eggs. As for the beer that our lieuten¬ 
ant drank, it is not fair to tell stories. He said it was 
good beer, to begin with. Then he thought it was excellent 
beer. At length he said he had not tasted better since he 
left London. 

Women get accustomed to many things during the 
course of a rambling journey like this. You should have 
seen how naturally Queen Tita brought forth the bezique- 
cards directly after supper, and how unthinkingly Bell 
fetched some matches from the mantelpiece and placed 
them on the table. My lady had wholly forgotten her 
ancient horror of cigar smoke—in any case, as she pointed 
out, it was other people’s houses we were poisoning with 
the odor. As for Bell, she openly declared that she en¬ 
joyed the scent of cigars; and that in the open air, on a 
summer evening, it was as pleasant to her as the perfume 
of the wild roses or the campions. 

However, there was no bezique. We fell to talking. It 
became a question as to which could find the freshest 
phrases and the strongest adjectives to describe his or her 
belief that this was the only enjoyable fashion of travelling. 
The abuse that was poured upon trains, stations, railway- 
]>orters, and the hurry of cabs in the morning, was exces¬ 
sive. Time-tables of all sorts were spoken of with an ani¬ 
mosity which was wonderful to observe when it came 
along with the soft and pleasant undertones of our Bonny 
l^ell’s voice. Tita said she should never go abroad any 
more. The lieutenant vowed that England was the most 
delightful country in the world to drive through. The 
present writci* remarked that the count had much to see 
yet; whereupon the foolish young man declared he could 
seek for no pleasanter days than those he had just spent, 
and wished, with some unnecessary emphasis, that they 
might go on forever. At this moment Bell rose and went 
to the window. 

Then we heard an exclamation. Looking round, we 
found the shutters open, and lo ! through the window we 
could see the white glare of moonlight falling into the 


112 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


empty tlioronglifare, and striking on tho wall on the otlier 
side of the way. 

“It cannot be very cold outside,” Bell remarks. 

“ Bell! ” cries Queen Tita, “ you don’t mean to go out 
at this time of night! ” 

“ Why not, madame?” says the lieutenant. “ Was it 
not agreed before we came up the hill? And when could 
you get a more beautiful night? I am sure it will be more 
beautiful than the sunrise from tho top of the Niessen.” 

“ Oh, if you think so,” says my lady, with a gentle cour¬ 
tesy, “ by all means let us go out for a little walk.” 

That is the way affairs began to be ordered about to 
suit the fancies of those young nincompoops. What little 
vestige of authority remained with the eldest of the group 
was exerted to secure a provision of shawls and rugs. Bell 
wms not loth. She had a very pretty gray shawl. She had 
also a smart little gray hat, which suited it; and as the hat 
was trimmed with blue, the gray shawl could not have a 
prettier decoration than the blue ribbon of the guitar. Who 
proposed it, I cannot say; but Bell had her guitar with her 
wdien we went out into the bright wmiider of the moon¬ 
light. 

Bourton-on-the-IIill was now a mass of glittering silver, 
and sharp, black shadows. Below us we could see the dark 
tower of the church, gleaming gray on the one side; then a 
mass of houses in deep shadow, with a radiance shining 
from their tiles and slates; then the gray road down the 
hill, and on one side of it a big wall, with its flints spark¬ 
ling. But wdien we got quite to the summit, and clam¬ 
bered on to a small piece of common where w'ere some felled 
trees, what words can describe the extraordinary view that 
lay around us ? The village and its small church seemed 
to be now half-way down the hill; whereas the great plain 
of the landscape appeared to have risen high up on the 
eastern horizon, where the almost invisible stars met tho 
dark woods of Oxfordshire. Over this imposing breadth of 
wood and valley and meadow—with its dark lines of trees, 
its glimmerings of farmhouses and winding streams—the 
flood of moonlight lay so softly that the world itself seemed 
to have grown clear from underneath. There were none of 
the wdld glares of white surfaces, and the ebony blackness 
of shadows which threw everything around us into sharp 
outline; but afar-reaching and mellow glamor that showed 
us tho mists lying along the river-tracks, and only revealed 


OF A PHAETON, 


113 


to iis the softened outlines and configurations of the land. 
If there had been a ruddy light in Moreton-in-the-Marsh, 
we should have seen it; but the distant village seemed dead ; 
and it, as well as all the great tract of wooded country 
around it, was whitened over by this softened and silent 
and almost sepulchral radiance that lay somehow between 
the dark-blue vault overhead and the vast plain beneath. 
It was but a young moon, but the exceeding rarity of the 
air lent strength to its radiance. 

“ Does not moonlight give you the impression that you 
can hear far?” said Bell, in a rather low voice, as if the 
silence and the stars had overawed her. “It is like frost. 
You fancy you could bear bells ringing a hundred miles 
across the clear air.” 

“ Mademoiselle, you will let us hear your singing in this 
stillness ? ” said the lieutenant. 

“ No, I cannot sing now,” she said ; and the very gentle¬ 
ness of her voice forbade him to ask again. 

We passed along the road. The night air was sweet 
with the odor of flowers. Out in the west, where the moon¬ 
light was less strong, the stars were faintly twinkling. Not 
a breath of wind stirred ; and yet it seemed to us that if a 
sound had been uttered anywhere in the world, it must have 
been carried to us on this- height. We were as gods up 
here in the cold sky and the moonlight; and far over the 
earth sleep had sealed the lips and the eyes of those poor 
creatures who had forgotten their sorrows for a time. 
Should we send them dreams to sweeten their lives by some 
glimpses of a world different from their own, and cause 
them to awaken in the morning with some reminiscence of 
the trance in their softened memories ? Or would it not be 
better to drown them in the fast and hard sleej) of fatigue, 
so that the dawn might bring them a firmer heart and no 
vanity of wishes ? Gods as we were, we had no care for 
ourselves. It was enough to be. Could not the night last 
forever, and keep us up here near the stars, and give us 
content and an absolute want of anxiety for the morrow? 
Queen Titania wandered on as if she were in an enchanted 
garden, followed by a black shadow on the gleaming 
white road; and her face, with all its gentleness and deli¬ 
cacy, seemed to have gained something of a pale and wistful 
tenderness as the white light shone down over the dark 
woods and crossed our path. As for Bell—but who can 
describe the grace and the figure that walked before us— 


114 


THE STRANGE AH VENTURES 


the light touching the gray shawl, and the fine masses of 
brown hair that hung all round the shapely neck and 
shoulders? We four were in England, s ire enough ; but it 
seemed to us then that we were very much alone, and about 
as near to the starry world as to the definite landscape ly¬ 
ing far away on the plain. 

We turned, however, when it was found that the road 
did not lead to any view of the western country. It seemed 
to run along a high level, cutting through betw’ecn sand¬ 
pits, farms, and w’oods; and so we made our way back to 
the bit of common overlooking Bourton, and there wo had 
a few minutes’ rest before getting into the small inn, whose 
windows were gleaming red into the white moonlight. 

Now you must sing to us something, mademoiselle,” 
said the lieutenant; “and here is a fine big tree cut down, 
that we can all sit on ; and you shall appear as A]>ollo in 
disguise, charming the natives of this landscape with your 
song.” 

“ But I do not know anything that Apollo sung,” said 
Bell, sitting down, nevertheless, and taking the guitar from 
her comjmnion. 

“ That is no matter. You must think yourself some one 
else—why not Zerlina, in this strange place, and you see 
Era Diavolo sitting alone on the rock, and you sing of him, 
yes? This is a very good place for highwaymen. I have 
no doubt they have sat here, and watched the gentleman’s 
carriage come up the road beneath; and then, hey ! with 
a rush and a flourish of pistols, and a seizing of the horses, 
and madame shrieks in the carriage, and her husband, 
trembling, but talking very brave, gives up his money, and 
drives on, with much swearing, but very contented to have 
no hurt.” 

“ You are very familiar with the ways of highway 
robbers,” said Boll, with a smile. 

“ Mademoiselle, I am an Uhlan,” he replied, gravely. 

Two at least of the party startled the midnight air with 
their laughter over this unintentional rebuke ; but Bell, 
conscious of ])ast backslidings, seemed rather discomfited, 
and hastened to say that she would, if he pleased, sing the 
song in which Zerlina describes the bandit. 

Slie sung it, too, very charmingly, in that strange silence. 
Knowing that we could not w^ell see her face, she lent her¬ 
self to the character, and we could hear the terror of Zerlina 
thrilling through her experiences of the dreaded Diavolo. 


OF A PHAETON. 


115 


Diavolo ! Diavolo ! ” the dark woods round seemed to say. 
“ Diavolo! Diavolo! ” throbbed the bass strings of the 
"uitar ; and the girPs voice trembled in its low tones as she 
})ronounced the name. If any lonely stranger had been ])a8s- 
ing along the highway at this hour, what would he have 
thought of this strange thing—a beautiful girl seated over¬ 
head amidst the stars, apparently, with the moonlight strik¬ 
ing, on her exquisite face and her masses of hair, while she 
sung in a low and impassioned voice, and struck chords from 
some strange instrument? Would she not appear as some 
wild vision of the Lorelei ? Or, considering that companions 
were visible, and some talking and jesting occasionally 
heard, might not this be a com])any of strolling play-actors, 
such as all honest persons were aforetime conjured to dis¬ 
countenance and suppress?* 

You know that when Zerlina has sung the first verses of her 
dramatic song, Diavolo, disguised as a marquess, suddenly 
rises and sings the concluding verse himself. Bell accordingly 
handed the guitar to Count Von Rosen, with a pretty smile. 
But would a young man, on such a night, sing a ballad about a 
mere bandit? No! The lieutenant was not averse to act 
the character of Diavolo, so far as his minstrelsy went, but 
he adopted one of his gentler moods. Lightly running his 
fingers over the strings, he began to sing of Agnese la Zit- 
ella, and how had he learned to soften his voice so ? Tlie 
pretty Agnese was told that she was as sweet as the spring, 
and then she is made to call forth her lover because the 
night is so fair—so much fairer than day—and so silent. ’Tis 
a pleasant barcarole, and conveys a message as well as an¬ 
other. But lest he should bo thought too bold prob¬ 
ably, our Uhlan rose abruptly when lie had finished the 
song, and said lightly, with a laugh— 

“ There ! was not that touching enough for Diavolo ? He 
was a very accomplished person, to have all the rough de¬ 
lights of a brigand, and then go about dressed as a mar¬ 
quess, and amuse himself with adventures. I think they 
treated him badly in the end, if I do remember right.” 

Bell did not answer. She had got back tln^guitar. Ap- 

* “ All persons concerned are hereby desired to take notice of and 
suppress all mountebanks, rope-dancers, ballad-singers, etc., that have 
not a license from the Master of bis Majesty’s Itevels (wliicb for the 
present year are all printed with black letters, and the kings arms in 
red). . . , and all those that have licenses with red and black letters 
are to come to the office to change them for licenses as they are now 
altered. April 17tli, 1684.’' 


116 


THE STRANGE ADVENTC/RES 


parently she was looking far down over the moonlit plain 
—her eyes grown distant and thoughtful—and as her 
fingers wandered over the strings, we heard almost as in a 
dream, the various careless notes shape themselves into a 
melody—a wild, sad melody, that seemed to breathe the 
tenderness and the melancholy of this still night, “ Silent, 
O Moyle, be the sound of thy waters ”—perhaps that was 
the air; or perhaps it was the heart-breaking “ Coolin’’— 
one could scarcely say ; but when at last we heard no more 
of it, Tita rose and said we must go indoors. There was 
something quite regretful in her tone. It seemed as if she 
were bidding good-by to a scene not soon to be met with 
again. 

The lieutenant gave his hand to Bell, and assisted her 
down the steep bank into the road ; and we passed on until 
the window of the inn was found glimmering red through 
the moonlight. We cast a brief glance around. Bourton 
lay beneath us, asleep. The great landscape beyond re¬ 
mained dark and silent under the luminous whiteness of the 
air. The silence seemed too sacred to be broken. 

“ Good-night,” said Tita to the lieutenant; “ I hope you 
liave spent at least one pleasant evening with us on this 
journey.” 

“ I have spent many, madam,” he said earnestly, “ and 
many very pleasant mornings and days, and I hope we shall 
have a great many more. I do think we four ought to turn 
vagrants—^gypsies, you call them—and go away altogether, 
and never go back any more to a large town.” 

“ What do you say. Bell ? ” asked Tita, with a kindly, 
if half-mischievous, look. 

“ I suppose we get to Worcester to-morrow,” said Bell, 
with not much appearance of joy in her face; and then she 
bade good-night to us all, and left Avith my lady. 

“ There it is,” said the lieutenant, with an impatient 
flinging down of his cap on the table. “ That is what inter¬ 
feres with all our pleasure. You go away on the most de¬ 
lightful excursion in the Avorld—you have the most beauti¬ 
ful scenes, and pleasant companions, and freedom—every¬ 
thing you can wish ; and then the young lady who ouglit to 
be more happy than any one; who is at the time of life to 
have no care but to enjoy her prettiness and her good temper, 
and all that; Avho is the pleasant ornament of the excursion, 
and IS a great delight to all of us—then she is vexed and 
frightened because that this—this—contemptible fellow 


OF A PI/AETON, 


117 

th'’-ontens to meet her in one of those big towns. Sacler^ 
rrrr-ment / I do hope he will come and have it over; but 
if lie is annoying, if he troubles her any more—” 

Ihus do we poor mortals fret and vex ourselves in the 
midst of our happiest circumstances. But at last there 
conies a time for sleep. And soon this solitary inn on the 
hill was as quiet and peaceful as the great world outside, 
where the moonlight seemed to have hushed the very winds 
to rest, and where the far woods and the streams and the 
low hills along the edge of the land lay still and dark under 
tlie cold majesty of the stars. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE AVENGER. 


“ Love had ordained tliat it was Abra’s turn 
To mix the sweets and minister the urn.’* 

Sgrely nine o’clock was early enough for breakfast at 
this remote little inn on the top of the hill; and indeed, when 
we parted the night before, after our moonlight improvisa¬ 
tion of “ Fra Diavolo,” that was the hour agreed upon. 

[Note by Queen Titania, written at Worcester on the evening of the 
following day. —Any comment of mine on the foregoing is at the mo¬ 
ment unnecessary ; we have other matters to engage our attention. 
Arthur has come. I can find no words to express the deep and seri¬ 
ous annoyance which this escapade is likely to cause. All our plans 
may be upset ; for he can scarcely explain Ins present wild proceedings 
without provoking some sort of final agreement with Bell. And sup¬ 
pose she should consent to be engaged to him, how are we to con¬ 
tinue oiir journey ? Of course he will not allow her : if he had not 
dislikedit, he would not be here now. Certainly, I i/r/nfcBell has acted 
Imprudently ; for I told her that if she did not answer his letter, he 
M'ould be sure to imagine all manner of things, and come and see her. 
The consequence is that she is, I tear, in a great dilemma ; for 1 do 
not see how she can avoid either refusing him altogether, or consent¬ 
ing to everything that he asks. And as we can’t continue our jour¬ 
ney till Monday, he will have a whole day to persecute her into giv¬ 
ing him an answer of some kind ; and then she is so foolishly good- 
hearted that, if he is only pathetic enough, she will say, ‘ yes’ to 
everything. It is most provoking. If wo could only get this one day 
over, and him back to London ! 



118 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Nine o’clock! Going down at a quarter-past eight, with 
some notion that the lieutenant might have sat up half the 
night consuming his wrath in the smoking of many cigars, 
and might now be still in bed, I heard voices. Sometimes 
there was a laugh—and no one who had once heard Boll’s 
musical laugh could ever mistake it. ^Vhen I went into the 
parlor which had been the lieutenant’s bedroom, I found 
that all traces of his occupation were gone ; a fire was burn¬ 
ing brightly in the grate, the breakfast-tray was laid, Bell 
sat at the open window talking to Von Rosen himself, who 
was standing out on the pavement in the full blaze of the 
morning sunshine, that now filled the main thoroughfare of 
Bourton-on-the-IIill 

Bell looks round with a startled air. 

“ My dear,” I say to her, “travelling is doing you a 
world of good. Early rising is an excellent thing for young 
peo})le.” 

“ I did not know when you might want to start,” says 
Bell, gently, and rather averting her eyes—for which there 
was no reason whatever. 

At this moment Queen Titania came down, looking brisk 
and cheerful, as she always does in the morning. She glanced 
at the fire, at the clean table, at Bell sitting by the win¬ 
dow, and at the blaze of sunlight on the wall on the other 
side of the street. Apparently, this pleasant picture put 
her into an excellent humor, and she said to the lieutenant, 
with one of her brightest looks, 

“ Well, have you been making discoveries this morning? 
Have you made the acquaintance of many people ? Has 
Bourton-on-the-Hill anything peculiar about it?” 

“Oh yes, madam,” said the lieutenant seriously,” some- 
tiling very singular, which you will not like to hear. This 
is an English village, in the middle of the country, and yet 
they never have any milk here—never. Tliey cannot get 
any. The farmers prefer to make butter, and they will not 
sell milk on any inducement.” 

“ Why,” said Tita, “that is the re.ason of our having no 
milk with our tea last evening. But is there no one the 
landlady can beg a little milk from ? ” 

The lieutenant looked at Bell, and that young lady 
endeavored to conceal a smile. They had evidently been 
speculating on Tita’s dismay before we come down. 

“ The great farmer in the neighborhood,” continued the 
lieutenant, gravely, “ is a Mrs. Phillips. I think she owns 


OF A PHAETON. 


119 


nil the cattle—all the milk. I did send to hen- a polite 
inessacfc an hour ago, to ask if she would present us Avith a 
htlleof it—but no; there is no answer. At tlie moment that 
mademoiselle came down, I was going up to Mrs. Phillij)’s 
farm, to get the milk for you, but mademoiselle Avas too 
proud for that, and would not allow me to go, and said 
she would not take it noAr, since the Avoman liad refused 
it.” 

“And how did you propose to overcome Mrs. Phillip’s 
obstinacy ?” asked Tita, who seemed possessed by a fear 
that sooner or later the predatory instincts of this Uhlan 
Avould get us into trouble. 

“ Oh, I do not knoAA% but I should have got it some Avay,” 
said the lieutenant; and Avith that he lield out a small 
book he had in his hand. “ See ! I have made more dis¬ 
coveries tliis morning. Here is a note-book I liavc found, 
of a young lady at school, Avho has been staying, perhaps, 
at this house; and it has given me much amusement—oh, 
very much amusement, and instruction also. It is 
just the same as if I had been in the school Avith her, and 
she had told me all about her teachers, and the other girls, 
and all that. Shall I read some to you ?” 

“ Noav, is it fair,” said Bell, “ to peep into a young 
lady’s secrets like that?” 

“ But I have done so already,” replied Von Posen, 
coolly. “ I have read it all; and noAv I Avill tell you some 
of it. First, there are addresses of friends—that is nothing. 
Then there are stitches of knitting—that is nothing, only 
the young lady seems correct and methodist—no, methodi¬ 
cal, I should say. Then there are notes of lectures, and very 
much good information in them, oh, very good indeed: I 
am not surprised your English young ladies knoAV very 
much. Let me see: Epic poetry we like., because they 
treat of great men and great actions. Paradise Lostf 
admired for its noble language. Milton a Puritan, 
England receives solidity of character from the Puritans, 
Pryden and Byron are not read, although very great. 
Byron hated his own race—is not a good poet to read.' 
This is very good instruction ; but she hastens noAV to put 
down something about tAvo other girls, Avho Avere perhaps 
at the lecture. She says : ‘ Shocking, impertinent, ill-bred 
creatures; my spirit recoils from them.' Then there is a 
question addressed to her neighbor: ‘ Do you see how Miss 
Williams has got her hair done f ' ” 


120 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Here Queen Titania protested aijainst these revelations, 
and would have held out her hand for tlie book; but the 
lieutenant only stepped back a few inches from the win¬ 
dow, and said, seriously,— 

“ There is much better information to come. Here she 
puts down in order the phrases which one of the masters 
has used to her class : polite phrases, she says, to use to 
ladies. ‘ 1 You degrade yourselves. 2. How much more 
l itchen-maidism f 8. Sim 2 :)ly offensive. 4. It shoios how 
you have been brought iq-). 5. I will put a stop to this 

impertinence. 6. Silence^ ladies / 7. Pretty conduct! * 

I am afraid he has Iiad an unruly class. Then the young 
lady has a little piece of composition Avliich I tliink is tlie 
beginning of a novel. She says, ‘ 77ie summit of Cam- 
berwell Grove^ which forms part of the lovely elevation 
known as Denmark Hill., is one of the most charming and 
secluded retreats around the great metropolis. Here., in the 
spring-time., groves of lindens jmt forth their joyous leaves, 
and birds of various colors flit through the branches, sing¬ 
ing hymns of praUe. On the one side, the dreary city 
dwells behind an enchanted veil of trees / on the other you 
pass into emerald fields, which stretch onward to the 
Arabian magnificence of the Crystal Palace. In this 
lofty and picturesque spot Lord Arthur Beauregard was 
accustomed to pace, musing on the mystery and gloom 
which had enveloped him since he left the cradled There 
is no more of this very good story, but on the next page 
tliere is a curious thing; there are three lines .all surrounded 
by a scroll, and do you know wliat is written ?—‘ A Woman 
can do anything with a man by not contradicting him ; ’ 
and underne.atli the scroll is written, ‘ Don't I wish this 

was true f Helen M -.’ None of the rest is Avritten so 

clearly as this—” 

“Count Von Kosen, I will not listen to .any more?” 
cried Tit.a. “ It is most unfair of you to have been reading 
this young lady’s confessions—” 

“ I got them in a public inn : I h.ave the right, have I 
not? ” remonstrated the lieutenant. “ It is not for pleasure, 
it is for my instruction, that I read. Oh, there are very 
strange things in this book.” 

“ Pray give it to me,” said Bell, quite gently. 

He had refused to surrender it to my lady; but the 
moment that Bell asked for it, he came forward and 


OF A PHAETON. 121 

handed it in through the window. Then he came in to 
breakfast. 

Little time was spent at breakfast; the sun was shining 
too briglitly outside. We called for our bill, which was 
brought in. It was entitled “ Bill of Fare.” Our dinner 
of the previous evening was called tea, and charged at the 
rate of one shilling a head. Our breakfasts were one shilling 
each. Our bedrooms were one shilling each. Any travel¬ 
ler, therefore, who proposes to stay at Bourton-on-the-Hill, 
cannot do better than put up at the inn of W. Seth Dyde, 
especially as there is no other ; and I heartily wish that he 
may enjoy something of the pleasant companionship, the 
moonlight and the morning freshness that graced our so¬ 
journ on the top of this Worcestershire hill. 

Then into the phaeton again, and away we go through 
the white sunlight and the light morning breeze that is 
blowing about these lofty wood ! There is a resinous odor 
in the air, coming from the furze and the ferns. The road 
glares in the sunlight. Overhead the still blue is scarcely 
flecked by a cloud ; but all the same there is a prevailing 
coolness that makes the driving through the morning air 
delicious. It is a lonely country—this stretch of forest and 
field on the high level between Bourton and Broadway. 
We pass Bourton Clump, and leave Bourton Wood on the 
right. We skirt Upton Wold, and get on by Furze Heath. 
Then, all at once, the land in front of us seems to drop 
down; we come in sight of an immense stretch of blue 
})lain, from which the thin mists of the morning have not 
■wholly risen. We are on the top of the famous Broadway 
Hill. 

By the side of the road there is a strange, old-fashioned 
little building, which is apparently a wayside chapel. Count 
Von Kosen jumps down to have a look at this odd relic 
of our former Catholicism, which has remained on the 
summit of this hill for several centuries. He can discover 
nothing but a sign which tells that this sacred edifice now 
contains wines, spirits, and beer; so he comes back, and 
goes up to the corner of a field opposite, where a middle- 
aged man, surrounded by some young folks, is making hay. 
In the utter stilbiess of the place, we can hear all the ques¬ 
tions and answers. The small building is not so very old ; 
it never was a church. The stones there mark the bound¬ 
ary between Gloucester and Worcester. The view from 


122 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


this ])lace is considered unrivalled for extent; you can see 
the Black Sandy Mountains on a very clear day. 

“ Indeed! ” says tlie count. “ Where are they, tlie 
mountains you speak of ? ” 

“ I don’ kiiavv, sir ; I’ve heerd tell on ’em ; I never wur 
theear.” 

Going down this steep hill Tita looks anxious. A bad 
stumble, and we should go rolling over the little wall into 
the ravine beneath. One has a far-off reminiscence of 
Switzerland in watching the horses lianging back from the 
pole in this fashion, wdiile every bend of the road seems 
more precipitous than its predecessor. Then we get down 
to the plain, rattle through the level and straggling village 
of Broadway, and drive into the fields again, where the sun 
is lying warmer than it was up over the top of the hill. 

There is a small boy in a smock-frock sitting under¬ 
neath the hedge, wdiittling a stick, while a shepherd’s dog 
lies on the grass beside him. 

“Evesham?” calls out the count, as we pass, merely 
because there has been a little doubt about the road. 

“ Naw, zir,” was the answer, uttered with a fine sainj- 
froid. 

Of course we pull up directly. 

“ Isn’t this the way to Evesham ?” I ask. 

“Yaas, zir,” said the boy, coolly looking up from Ids 
stick, but sitting still. 

“ This is the way to Evesliam ? ” 

“ Yaas, zir.” 

“Do you know where it is?” 

“ Naw, zir.” 

^ “He is a very cautious boy,” says the lieutenant, as we 
drive on ; “a very cautious boy indeed.” 

“ If he had been asked j)roperly at first,” says Bell, with 
great gravity, “ he w'ould have given a proper answer. But 
when you say ‘ Evesham ?’ of course the boy tells you this 
is not Evesham.” 

Evesham, when we did get to it, was found to be a very 
bright, clean, and lively little town, with the river Avon, 
slowly gliding through flat meadows, forming a sort of loop 
around it. In the quaint streets a good amount of business 
seemed to be going on ; and as we put up at the Crown, and 
went off for a brief ramble through the place, we found quite 
an air of fashion in the costume of the young ladies and the 
young gentlemen whom we met. But the latter, although 


OF A PHAETON, 


123 


tlicy ]iad copied very accurately the Prince of Wales’s dress 
of llie previous year, and had very stiff collars and promi¬ 
nent canes, had an odd look of robust health in their cheeks, 
whicli showed they were not familiar with Piccadilly and 
the Park ; while the former, although they were very pretty 
and very neatly attired, ought not to have turned and j)re- 
tendcd to look into the shop-windows in order to have a 
look at Bell’s pretty gray dress and hat, and at Queen Tita- 
nia’s more severe but no less graceful costume. But Eves¬ 
ham does not often entertain two angels unawares; and 
some little curiosity on the part of its inhabitants may be 
forgiven. 

The ])eople of Evesham are not much given to boating 
on the Avon ; and so—postponing our usual river excursion 
until we should reach the Severn—Bell besought us to go 
into a photographer’s establishment, and make experiments 
with our appearance. The artist in question lived in a 
wooden house on wheels; and there were specimens of his 
liandiwork nailed up outside. Our entrance apparently 
surprised the jdiotographer, who seemed a little nervous, and 
perhaps was a trille afraid that we should smile at his efforts 
in art. But surely nothing could be more kindly than Bell’s 
suggestions to him and her conversation with him ; for she, 
as a “ professional ” herself, conducted the negotiations and 
arranged the groups. The artist, charmed to see that she 
knew all about his occult processes, and that she was withal 
a very courteous and kindly visitor, became almost too con¬ 
fidential with her, and began to talk to her of us three as if 
we were but blocks of wood and stone to be played with as 
these two savants chose. Of the result of the various com¬ 
binations into which we were thus forced, little need be 
said. Queen Titania came out very well; her pale, dark, 
clear-cut face telling in every picture, and even making us 
forget the tawdry bit of brass and the purple velvet of the 
frame. As for the rest of us, a journey is not a good time 
to have one’s jjortrait taken. The flush of healthy color 
produced by the wind, and by much burning of the sun, 
may look very well on the natural face, but is apt to pro¬ 
duce a different effect on glass. 

The lieutenant, for example, roared with laughter when 
he saw himself transfigured into a ferocious bandit, with a 
great black beard, a dark face, and two white holes where 
his eyes should have been. But the moment he had laughed 
out, he caught sight of Bell’s face. The young lady looked 


1-24 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


very much vexed, and her eyes were cast down. Instantly 
tlio young man said, loud enough for the photographer to 
hear,— 

“ I do seem to myself very ridiculous in this English 
costume. When you are used to uniforms for a very long 
time, and all at once get into this common dress, you think 
yourself some other person, and you cannot help laughing at 
the appearance yourself makes.” 

Bell’s eyes said “ Thank you ” as plainly as eyes could 
speak; and then she paid a very grave and gentle compli¬ 
ment to the artist, whom we left beaming over with pride 
and gratitude toward the young lady. 

“ To go flirting with a travelling photographer ! ” says 
Queen Tita, as we go in to luncheon ; “ for shame, Bell! 

“ No it was only mademoiselle’s good-nature to the poor 
man,” replies the lieutenant, with an unnecessary tone of 
earnest protest. “ I do think he is the very hapj)iest person 
in Evesham to-day—that he has not been so happy for many 
a day.” 

“ I think the portraits are very good,” says Bell, bravely, 
“ if you consider how he has to work.” 

“ Now you know you can’t excuse yourself, Bell,” says 
my lady. “ You paid him compliments that would have 
turned any man’s head ; and as for the truth of them—or 
rather the unblushing perversion of truth in them—” 

But at this moment Tita happened to be passing Bell’s 
chair, and she put her hand very gently on the young lady’s 
head, and patted her cheek—a little caressing action which 
said more than a thousand protestations of alfection. 

Our setting out for Worcester was rather a dismal busi¬ 
ness. Were we school-children who had been playing truant, 
that we should regard with apprehension a return to town? 
Or were Bell’s vague fears contagious ? In vain the lieuten¬ 
ant sought to cheer her. She knew, and we all of us knew, 
that if Arthur Ashburton chose to come and ask to see her, 
nothing could be easier than for him to discover our where¬ 
abouts. He was aware of our route, and had been told the 
names of the principal towns at which we should stop. A 
party of four arriving from London in a pha3ton is not a 
customary occurrence, and a brief inquiry at the chief ho¬ 
tels in any town would be likely to give him all the informa¬ 
tion he required. 

Then, as wo afterward discovered. Bell liad returned no 
answer to the letter he had sent to Oxford. She had been 


OF A F//AFTO.V. 


125 


too hurt, and liad forborne to reply in kind. Who 

docs not know the distracting doubts and fears that an un¬ 
answered letter—when one is at a certain age in life—may 
conjure up, and the terrible suspense that may prompt to 
the wildest action? We seemed to share in Bell’s dismay. 
The lieutenant, however, was light-hearted enough, and as 
lie relinquished his attempts to break the silence, he sent 
the horses on at a good pace, and hummed to himself 
broken snatches of a ballad, and talked caressingly to Cas¬ 
tor and Pollux. 

When we were a few miles from Evesham, without hav¬ 
ing seen anywhere a glini])sc of the obelisk that stands on 
the famous Evesham jilain, it occurred to us that we might 
as well ask if we were on the proj>er road. There seemed a 
curious quietness and picturesquencss about the wooded 
lanes through which we were driving in the calm of the 
twilight. At length we reached a turnpike at the corner of 
several unfrequented patlis, and here an old lady was con¬ 
tentedly sewing, wliilc her assistant, a pretty little girl of 
tliirtcen, collected the sixpences. Well, we had only come 
about live miles out of our route. Instead of going 
by Pershore, we had struck away northward, and were now 
in a labyrinth of country lanes, by any of which we might 
make our way along through the still landscape to Worces¬ 
ter. Indeed, we had no cause to regret this error. The out 
of the way road that runs by Flyford Flavell and Broughton 
Ilackett proved to be one of the pleasantest we had trav¬ 
ersed. In the clear twilight we found ourselves driving 
through a silent and picturesque district, the only life visible 
in which was the abundant game. The partridges that were 
dusting themselves in the road before us did not get up and 
disap])ear with a strong, level, low flight towards some dis¬ 
tant Held, but walked sedately into the grass by the road¬ 
side, and then passed through the hedge. We saw several 
])heasants calmly standing at the outskirts of the woods. 
The plump little rabbits ran about like mice around the 
fences. The sound of the phaeton wheels was the only noise 
hoard in this peaceful solitude ; and as we drove on, the 
dusk grew apace, and the movements of bird and beast were 
no longer visible. 

Then a new twilight arose—a faint, clear light shining up 
from below the horizon, and we knew that the moon would 
speedily be glimmering through the black branches of the 
woods. The hamlets wo passed showed streaks of red 


1-26 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


within their windows. There were glowworms in the road 
—points of blue fire in the vague darkness. Then we drove 
into tlie gloom of the avenues of Spetchley Park ; and finally, 
with still another glare appearing in the sky—this time 
a ruddy hue, like the reflection of a great fire—we got nearer 
ajid nearer to the busy town, and at last heard the liorses' 
feet clattering on a stone street. 

The thoroughfares of Worcester were busy on this Satur¬ 
day night; but at length Ave managed to make our way 
through the people and vehicles up to the Star Hotel. We 
drove into the spacious archway, and j)asscd into the hall, 
while the peo])le were bringing in our luggage. The lieu¬ 
tenant Avas, as usual, busy in giving orders about everything, 
Avhen the head Avaiter came up and begged to know iny 
name. Then he presented a card. 

“ The gentleman is staying at the Crown. Shall I send 
him a message, sir ? ” 

“ No,” says Tita, interposing ; “ I Avill Avrite a note, and 
ask him to come round to dinner—or supper, whichever it 
ought to be called.” 

“ Oh, has Arthur come? ” says Bell, quite calmly. 

“ So it appears, my dear,” says Queen Titania; and as 
she utters the Avords, she finds that Von Rosen lias come up 
and has heard. 

“All right,” he says, cheerfully. “ It Avill be a pleasure 
to have a visitor at dinner, madame, Avill it not? It is a 
])ity AV'C cannot take him farther Avith us Avhen Ave start on 
Monday ; but I suppose he has come on business to Wor¬ 
cester ? ” 

The lieutenant took the matter very coolly. He handed^ 
Bell and Tita upstairs to look after the dis])Osal of their 
effects ; and then came into the dining-room to see what ar¬ 
rangements had been made about dinner. 

“ If he behaves himself, that is very Avell and good. 
You must treat him civilly. But if not—if he is foolish 
and disagreeable, Avhy—” 

The lieutenant did not say Avhat Avould happen then. 
He bethought himself of the horses, and strode away down 
into the darkness of the yard, liumming lightly “ Mildcle, 
ruck, ruck, ruck, an mcine griiiie Seitc ! ” He Avas evident¬ 
ly in no Avarlike mood. 


OF A PI/AETOA’’. 


ITi 


CIIArXER XI. 

SOME WORCESTER SAUCE. 

Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, 

A mile forth of the towne, 

"Wlieii she was aware of her father’s men 
Come galloping over the downe ; 

“ And foremost came the carlish knight, 

Sir John of the north countraye ; 

Nowe stop, nowe, stop, thou false traitourc, 

Nor carrye that ladyc awaye I ’ ” 

“Mr dear,” I say to Queen Titania, as she is fastening 
a rose in lier hair before going down to dinner, “ ])ray 
remember tliat Arthur Asliburton is ‘ also a vertebrate 
animal.’ He has done nothing monstrous or inhuman in 
paying you a visit.” 

“ Paying me a visit ? ” says Tita, impatiently. “ If he 
had come to see me, I should not care. But you know 
that he lias come to pick a quarrel with Bell; and that she 
is likely to grant liim everytliing he asks; and if she does 
not, there will be infinite trouble and vexation. I consider 
it most provoking—and most thoughtless and inconsiderate 
on his part—to thrust himself upon us in this way.” 

“ And yet, after all,” I say, as she fastens on a bracelet 
which was given her nearly twenty years ago now, “ is 
there anything more natural? A young man is in love 
■witli a young woman—” 

“It IS his own fault,” she interposes. 

“Perliaps. So much the worse. He ought all tlie 
more to have your compassion, instead of your indignant 
scorn. Well, sho leaves liis charming society to go off on 
a wild rampage through the country. A possible rival ac¬ 
companies her. Tlie young man is torn asunder with 
doubts and fears. lie writes to her. She does not answer. 
Ilis anxiety becomes a madness; and forthwith he sets off 
in pursuit of lier. Is there aiiything in all this to brand 
him as an outcast from humanity ? ” 


12S 


THE STRANGE AD VENTURES 


“ Why, look at the folly of it! If the girl had proper 
ppirit, 'would it not drive her into refusing him altogethoi'? ” 

“ Foolish, my dear, yes! but not criminal. Now tlio 
"wdiole of you seem to look on Artliur as a monster of wicked¬ 
ness, because he is anxious to mai ry the girl he is fond of.” 

My lady alters the dis])osition of the thin tracery of 
silver cord which runs through the dark masses of her hair, 
and as she thus manages to shelve the subject, she says,— 

“ I suppose we shall have a pleasant time at dinner. 
Arthur will be fiercely amusing. Plenty of sarcasm going 
about. Deadly looks of hatred. Jokes as heavy as that 
one Bell talks of—that Avas carried to the window by four 
men, and killed a policein.*<»-a when it tumbled over.” 

My lady is gently reminded that this story was told of 
a German, before the date of Bell’s conversion ; whereupon 
she answers coolly,— 

“ Oh, I do not suppose that Count Von Posen is like 
all Gormans. I think he is quite an exception—a very 
creditable exception. I know I have never met any one 
the least like him before.” 

“ But heroes were not common in your country, were 
they ?” 

“ They were in yours,” says Tita, ]uitting her arm 
M ithin mine, and speaking with the most gracious sweet¬ 
ness ; “ and that was why they took no notice of you.” 

AVe go downstairs. At the head of the large dinner 
room, in front of the firejilace, a young man is standing, 
lie has a timetable in his hand, which he is ])rctending to 
read, and his hat is on his head. He hastily removes that 
most important ]\art of an Englishman’s attire when my 
lady enters the room, and then he comes forward with a 
certain apprehension and embarrassed look on his face. If 
he had been growing nervous about his reception, there 
was nothing, at all events, to be feared from Queen Titania, 
who would have welcomed the * * * himself with an 
effusive courtesy, if only she had regarded it as her duty it 

“Oh, Arthur,” she says, her whole face lighting up with 
a gladness which amazed even me, who am accustomed to 
watch her ways, “ I am really delighted to see you. How 
good of you to come and spend the evening with us on so 
short a notice ! I hope we have not taken you away from 
any other engagement ? ” 

“No,” says the young man, apparently very much 


OF A FI/A ETON, 


129 


touched by this kindness, “and—and—it is I who ought to 
.aj)ologi7e for breaking in on you like this.” 

“ U'hen you will spend to-morrow with us also?” snvs 
my Indy, quite ])leasantly. Indeed, there is nothing like 
facing the inevitable witli a good grace. 

“Yes,” says Arthur, rather humbly, “if you think l*m 
not inlruding.” 

“ Why, your coming will be quite a relief. I should never 
have forgiven you if you had been in our neighborhood with¬ 
out coming to see us.” 

You might think tliat this little speech was of the nature 
of a fib. But it was not, just at that moment. When people 
are absent, Tita is about as cool, and accurate, and severe in 
her judgment of them as any woman can be ; and she is not 
disinclined to state her opinion. But once they come near her 
—and especially if she has to play the part of hostess, and 
entertain them—the natural and excessive kindness of the 
woman drives her into the most curious freaks of unconscious 
hypocrisy. Half an hour before, she had been talking of 
Arthur in a way that would have considerably astonished 
that young man, if he had known ; and had been looking 
forward with dismay and vexation to all the embarrassments 
of his visit. Now, however, that he was there—thrown on 
her mercy, as it were—she showed him quite inordinate 
kindness, and that in the most honest way in the world. 
A couple of minutes sufficed to convince Arthur that he had 
at least one firm friend in our household. 

He began to look anxiously towards the door. Presently, 
a voice that he knew pretty well was heard outside; and 
then—ominous conjunction !—the lieutenant and Bell entered 
together. Von Rosen had held the door open for his com- 
j)anion, so that Bell advanced first towards our visitor. Her 
face was quite calm, and a trifle reserved ; and yet every one 
could see that as she shook hands with the young man, 
there was a timid, half-concealed look of pleasure and wel¬ 
come in her eyes. He, on his part, 'was gloomily cere¬ 
monious. He scarcely took any notice of the greeting which 
the lieutenant carelessly addressed to him. He accom])anied 
us over to the table, and took a seat on the right hand of 
Tita, with a silence that portended evil. We were likely to 
have a pleasant evening! 

Had he possessed a little more worldly prudence or 
savoir faire, he would now have made some light excuse 
for his being present. He ought, for form’s sake, to have 


130 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


given ns to understand tliat, as he was obliged to be in 
Oxford, he had come on by rail to pay us a visit. But as 
it was, no explanation was forthcoming. Our Apemantus 
had apparently dropped from the skies. lie looked very un¬ 
comfortable, and replied in monosyllables to the various 
and continuous remarks that Tita addressed to him. IIo 
had never spoken to Bell, who sat next him, and who was 
herself silent. Indeed, the constraint and embarrassment 
from which she was suffering began to vex the lieutenant, 
who strove in vain to conquer it by every means in his 
])ower. 

The barometer steadily fell. The atmosj^here grew more 
and more gloomy, until a storm of some sort was inevitable. 
The anxious efforts of Queen Tita to introduce some cheer¬ 
fulness were touching to see ; and as for Bell, she joined in 
the talk about our journey, and what we had seen, in a series 
of disconnected observations that were uttered in a low and 
timid tone, as if she were afraid to draw down lightning 
from the thunder-clouds. Lieutenant Von Rosen had at 
first addressed a word or two to our guest ; but finding the 
labor not productive, he had dropped him entirely out of 
the conversation. Meanwhile Arthur had drunk a glass or 
two of sherry. lie was evidently nettled at finding the 
lieutenant almost monopolizing attention ; for Tita herself 
had given up in despair, and was content to listen. Von 
Rosen was s|)eaking as usual of the differences between En¬ 
glish and German ways, and social aims, and what not, un¬ 
til at last ho drifted into some mention of the republican 
jdienomena that had recently been manifested in this coun- 

Now what conceivable connection is there between the 
irritation of an anxious lover and republicanism? Master 
Arthur had never alarmed any of us by ])rofessing wild 
opinions on that subject or on any other. We never knew 
that the young man had any political views beyond a sort 
of nebulous faith in the Crown and the Constitution. Con¬ 
sider, therefore, our amazement when, at this moment, he 
boldly and somewhat scornfully announced himself a Demo¬ 
crat and informed us that tlie time was come for dismissing 
old su])erstitions and destroying the last monopolies of 
feudalism. There would be a heavy account to settle with 
the aristocracy tliat had for generations made laws to secure 
its own interests, and tied up the land of the country so 
that an idle population had to drift into the big towns and 


OF A PHAETON. 


131 


become paupers. All this was over. New times were at 
hand. England was ripe for a new revolution, and woe to 
them that tried to stem the tide! 

The explanation of which outburst was merely this— 
that Arthur was so angry and impatient with the slate of 
things immediately around him, that he was possessetl with 
a wild desire to upset and destroy something. And there 
is nothing so easy to upset and destroy, in rhetoric, as 
the present political basis of this country. 

Well, we looked at the lad. Ilis face was still aglow, 
and there was something of trium])h as well as of liercc- 
ness in it. The hero of the old Silesian song, when his 
sweetheart has forgotten the -vows she made, and the ring 
she gave him is broken in two, would like to rush away into 
battle, and sleep by camp-fires, under the still night. But 
nothing half so ordinary would do for our fire-eatei*, who, 
because he could not very well kill a Prussian lieutenant, 
must needs attack the British Crown. Was there any one 
of us four inclined to resent this burst of sham heroics ? 
Was there not in it something of the desperation of wretch¬ 
edness that was far more entitled to awaken compassion ? 
Had Arthur been less in love, he would have been more 
prudent. Had he controlled his emotions in that admirable 
fashion with which most of our young gentlemen nowadays 
seem to set about the business of choosing a wife, he would 
not have made himself absurd. There was something 
almost pitiable in this wild, incoherent, ridiculous effort of 
a young man to do or say something striking and picturesque 
before the eyes of a girl whose affections he feared were 
drifting away from him. 

The lieutenant, to whom this outbreak was particularly 
addressed, took the affair very good-naturedly, lie said, 
with a smile,— 

“ Do you know who will be the most disappointed, if 
you should have a republic in England? Why, the repub¬ 
licans that are very anxious for it just now. Perhaps some 
of them are very respectable men—yes, I believe that; but 
if I am not wrong, the men who make the great fuss about 
it in your nation are not like that. Agitators—is not that 
what you call them ? And, if you have England a republic, 
do you think the government of the country will be given 
to those noisy persons of the present? No—that is not 
possible, I think. When the republic comes, if it does 
ooiiie at all—and I do not know how much force is in this 


132 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


demonstration — all yonr great men, your 'well-ciliicatcd 
men, your men of good ])Osition and good breeding and 
good feeling, they will all come forward, as they do now, 
to see that the country is ])ro])erly governed. And wliat 
will become of the present 7’ej)ublicans, who are angry be¬ 
cause they cannot get into Parliament, and who wish for a 
change that tliey may become great j)ersons? When you 
take away the crown, they will not all be kings, I think : 
there is too much of good sense in this country, and of 
public spirit, that makes your best men give up their own 
comfort to look after the Government; and so it will be 
then.” 

“ I hope there will be no violent change in our time, at 
least,” said Queen Tita. 

“Madame is anxious about the Church, I know,” re¬ 
marked the lieutenant, with great gravity ; but he looked 
at Bell, and Bell could not altogether conceal a smile. Ar¬ 
thur, watcliing them both, noticed that little bit of private 
understanding, and the gloom on his face visibly deepened. 

This must be said, however, that when an embarrassing 
evening is unavoidable, a dinner is the best method of tid¬ 
ing it over. The various small incidents of the feast sup¬ 
ply any ominous gaps in the conversation; and there is, 
besides, a thawing inlluence in good meat and drink which 
the fiercest of tempers finds it hard to withstand. After 
the ebullition about republicanism, Arthur had quieted 
somewhat. By the tinie we had got down to the sweets, 
and perhaps with the aid of a little Champagne—the lad 
never drank much at any time, I ought to say—his anger 
had become modified into a morose and sentimental melan¬ 
choly ; and when he did manage to speak to Bell, he ad¬ 
dressed her in a wistful and pathetic manner, as if she wore 
some one on board a vessel, and he saw her gradually going 
away from him, her friends, and her native land. One little 
revelation, nevertheless, comforted him greatly; and lovers 
apt to magnify their misfortunes will note that he might 
have enjoyed this solace long before if only he had exer¬ 
cised the most ordinary frankness. 

“You got a letter I sent you to Oxford, I suppose ? ” 
ho said, with a studied carelessness. 

“Yes,” said Bell, with a little conscious color in hex 
face as she bent down her eyes. 

“ I am glad 1 had the chance of seeing you to-nig^.t,’ 
he continued, with the same effort at 8elf-i)OSsession, “be- 


OF A FI/AETON. 


133 


cause 1—T fancied you might be unwell—or some accident 
}inp]>ened—since you did not send the telegram I begged 
of you.” 

Here an awful moment of silence intervened. Every¬ 
body trembled for Bell’s reply, which miglit provoke the 
catastrophe we had been seeking to postpone. 

“It was only yesterday forenoon I got your letter,” 
Bell says, apparently feeling the silence uncomfortable; 
“ and—and I meant to have answered it to-night-” 

“ Oh, you were going to answer it ? ” he says, with his 
face suddenly getting bright. 

“ Yes,” she says, looking up with some surprise. “ You 
did not suppose I wouldn’t answer it?” 

In fact, that was just what lie liad supposed, consider¬ 
ing that she had been grievously offended by the tone of 
liis letter. 

“ I meant to have let you know how we all were, and 
how far we had got,” says Bell, conveying an intimation 
that this sort of letter might be sent by anybody to any¬ 
body. 

hTevertheless, Arthur greatly recovered himself after 
this assurance. She had not broken off with him, after all. 
lie explained that the letter must have been delayed on 
the way, or she would have got it the day before. He 
drank another glass of Champagne, and said, with a laugh, 
that he had meditated surprising us, but tliat the design 
had failed, for every one seemed to have expected him. 

“I only came down this afternoon, and I suppose I 
must go back on Monday,” he remarked, ruefully. 

This looked so very like a request for an invitation that 
I was bound to offer him a seat in the phaeton, if he did 
not mind a little discomfort. You should liave seen the 
look of amazement and indignation which my lady darted 
across the table at this moment. Fortunately, Arthur did 
not notice it. He said he was very much obliged—he 
feared he would have to return—if he went with us for a 
day or two, lie would inconvenience us sadly, but he would 
consider it before Monday morning. 

After dinner. Von Rosen got uj) and jiroposed that he 
and 1 should go down to the billiard-room—wliich is in the 
end of the building abutting on the stable-yard—and smoke 
a cigar. Surely generosity could go no further. Arlliur 
looked surp’-ijjf'd, and wore quite a pleasant smile on hU 
face when we rose and left. 



134 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


But perhaps it was merely selfishness that caused our 
Uhlan to leave the field; for as we two went down the 
})assage, and made our way to the spacious room, he said,— 

“ I am rather sorry for mademoiselle. She docs not 
seem to be very glad to meet her old friend ; perhaps be¬ 
cause he is not in a good temper. That is why I did say 
we should go and play billiards—there will be a chance of 
an explanation—and to-morrow he will be all right. It is 
foolish of him to be disagreeable. All this time of dinner, 
I was thinking to myself how well lie might make himself 
agreeable if he only wished—with knowing all the polite 
])hrases with ease, and being able to talk without thinking. 
For me, that is different, you know. I am bound in stupid 
limits; and when I think to say something nice to anyone, 
then I stop, because 1 know nothing of the words, just like 
at a wall.” 

He sent the red ball up and down the table in rather a 
peevish manner; he felt that Arthur had an advantage, per¬ 
haps. 

“But you talk English remarkably well.” 

“But I have remarked that you English always say 
that to a foreigner, and will not toll him when he is wrong. 
I know I am often wrong—and always about your past 
tenses—your ‘ was loving ’ and ‘ did love^' and ‘ loved,^ and 
like that; and I believe 1 am very wrong with always say¬ 
ing ‘ do ’ and ‘ did,' for I studied to give myself free-speak¬ 
ing English many years ago, and the book I studied with 
was ‘ Pepy’s Diary,’because it is all written in the first 
person, and by a man of good station. Now I find you do 
not say ‘ 1 did think,' but ‘ I thought,' only it was very 
hard to remember. And as for pronunciation, I know 1 
am very wrong.” 

Well, he had certainly marked forms of pronunciation, 
which I have considered it unnecessary to reproduce in re¬ 
cording his talk. He said ‘ I hef' for ‘ I have ’, and ‘ a goot 
sha^ot ’ for ‘ a good shot.' He also made occasional blun¬ 
ders in accent, through adopting the accent of the Latin 
word from which the English word is derived. But what 
were such trifles to the main fact that he could make him¬ 
self understood ? 

“But this is very strange,” he said; “how much more 
clearly mademoiselle speaks than any English lady, or any 
English person I have known yet. It is very remarkable 
to me, how I have great difficulty to follow people who 


OP A PHAETON. 


135 


talk like as if they had several tongues rolling in their 
mouth, and others speak very fast, and others let the ends 
of the words slide away ; but Miss Bell, slie is always clear 
distinct, and very pleasant to hear; and then she never 
speaks very loud, as most of your people do to a foreigner.” 

“ Perhaps,” I say, “ there is a reason for Bell’s clearness 
of speech.” 

“Why?” 

“Perhaps she takes pains to bo very distinct in talking 
to you, while she manages not to show it. Perhaps other 
people can notice that she speaks with a little more delib¬ 
eration to you than to any one else.” 

Von Rosen was obviously much struck. 

“Is that possible?” he said, witli his eyes full of won¬ 
der. “I have not noticed that slie did talk slow to me.” 

“ No—she conceals it admirably ; but all the same, such 
is the fact. It is not so much slowness as a sort of careful 
precision of pronunciation that she affects—and you ought 
to be very grateful for such consideration.” 

“ Oh, I think it is very good of her—very good indeed 
—and I would thank her for it—” 

“ Don’t do that, or you will have no more of it. And 
at present my lady is catching up a trick of talking in the 
same way.” 

“ It is very kind,” said the lieutenant, turning to the 
table with rather a thoughtful manner. “ You would not 
liave expected a young girl like that to be so reflective of 
other people.” 

Then he broke the balls, and by fair strength of arm 
screwed the white into the corner pocket. Nobody was 
more astonished than himself, except the marker. It was 
indeed, the first losing hazard he had ever made, he never 
having played before on a table witli pockets. His next 
stroke was not so successful; and so he consoled himself 
with lighting a Partaga about eight inches in length. 

“ At all events,” he continued, “ your language has not 
the difference of ‘ Sie ’ and ‘ which is a great advan¬ 
tage. Oh, it is a very perplexing thing sometimes. Sup¬ 
pose you do know a young lady very well, and you have 
agreed with lier in private you shall always call each other 
^ du\’ and then before other people you call her ‘ Sid —it 
is very hard not to call her ‘ by mistake, and then 
every one jumps up and stares at you, and all the secret is 
known. That is a very terrible thing.” 


130 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“And please what is the interesting ceremony with 
which you drink hrialerschaft \s\x!i\ a young lady? Tiio 
same as usual?—a large jug of beer—your arms inter- 
Avined—” 

“No, no, no!” he cried. “It is all a mystery. You 
shall not know anything of that. But it is very good—it 
is a very pleasant tiling—to have hriiderschaft with a young 
lady, althougli you drink no beer, and have no ceremonies 
about it.” 

“And what did Fraulein Fallersleben’s mamma say 
when you called her daughter ‘ du ’ by mistake? ” 

Tiie large empty room resounded with the lieutenant’s 
laughter. 

“ That is a good guess—oh! a very good guess—but not 
just good enough. For it was she who called me da and 
all the people were surprised—and then some did laugh ; 
but she herself—oh ! she was very angry with herself, and 
with me too, and for some time she called me ‘ aS'i 6’ even 
wlien we were together, until it was likely to be a quarrel. 
But one more quarrel,” added the lieutenant, with indiffer¬ 
ence, “ was not much matter. It was usually one every 
day—and then writing of sorrowful letters at the night— 
and next morning some reconciliation— Sackerment / 
Avliat is the use of talking of all that nonsense?” 

And then once more the ball flew about the table; 
finally lodging in a pocket, and scoring three for a miss. 
Indeed, our Uhlan Avas not at home Avith our big English 
tables, their small balls, pointed cues, and perpetual pockets. 
Even Avhen he got a good chance of a carrom, the small¬ 
ness of the balls caused him to fail entirely. But he had 
a very excellent cigar. It was something to be aAvay from 
the cmbarassment that had prevailed at dinner. Perhaps, 
too, he enjoyed a certain sense of austere self-satisfaction 
in having left to Arthur full possession of the field. On 
the whole, he enjoyed himself very Avell; and then, our 
cigars being finished, he had a final look at the horses, and 
tlieii returned to the coffee-room. 

“I am afraid,” said Von Rosen, with some alarm, “ Ave 
have been negligent of our duties.” 

Master Arthur had left some half-hour before. The 
ladies had retired. Only one or tAvo of the heaviest topers 
Avere left in the bar-parlor ; the waiters looked as if they 
considered their week’s work fairly over. 

“ Tell me,” said my Prussian friend, as he got his can* 


OF A PHAETON, 137 

die, “ is that young gentleman coming round here to¬ 
morrow ? ” 

“ Probably he is.” 

“ Do you not think, then, it would be good to hire a 
vehicle and go away somewhere for a drive all the day be¬ 
fore he comes ? ” 

“To-morrow is Sunday.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“Do you fancy you wouhl get either Bell or my lady 
to go driving on Sund.ay ? Don’t you ])ropose such a tiling, 
if you arc wise. There is a cathedral in this town ; and 
the best thing you can do is to study its history and asso¬ 
ciations early in the morning. You will have plenty of time 
to think over them to-morrow, inside the building itself.” 

“ Oh, I do not object to that,” he remarked, coldly, as 
he went upstairs, “ and I do not care to have too much 
driving—it is only to prevent mademoiselle being annoyed, 
as I think she was at dinner this evening—that is all. I 
suppose we may go for a walk to-morrow after the church¬ 
time ? And he will come? Very well, he will not harm 
me, I am sure ; but—but it is a pity—that is all.’’ 

And with this somewhat mysterious conclusion, the 
lieutenant disappeared towards his own room. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE KIVALS. 

“ WTien on the gentle Severn’s sedgy bank, 

In single opposition, hand to hand, 

He did confound the best part of an hour 
In changing hardiment with great Glendower.” 

“ If we could only get over this one day! ”—that was 
the burden of Tita’s complaining the next morning. Ar¬ 
thur had been invited to breakfast, and had declined ; but 
he was coming round to go with us to the Cathedral. 
Thereafter, everything to Tita’s mind was chaos. She 
dared hardly think of what the day might bring forth. In 
vain I pointed out to her that this day was but as another 
day; and that if any deeds of wrath or vengeance were 




188 


THE STRAXGE ADVENTURES 


liicldeii away in ihe vague intentions of our young fi-iencl 
from Twickenham, tlicre was no ])articu]ar safety gained in 
tiding over a single Sunday. 

“At all events,” says my lady, firmly, “you cannot do 
anything so imprudent as press him to accompany us far- 
ther on our journey.” 

“ Cannot the phaeton hold five?” 

“You know it cannot, comfortably. But that is not 
the question. For my own part, I don’t choose to have a 
lioliday spoiled by provoking a series of painful scenes, 
which I know will occur. We may manage to humor him 
to-day, and get him to leave us in an amiable mood ; but 
it would be impossible to do it two days running. And I 
am not sure even about this one day.” 

“But what prevents his dropping down on us at any 
time—say at Shrewsbury, or Chester, or Carlisle—just as 
he has done here at Worcester ? ” 

“I will.” 

That was enough. Having some regard for the young 
man, I hoped he would submit quietly. But lovers are 
headstrong; and jealousy, when it is thoroughly aroused, 
leaves no place in the mind for fear. 

It was a bright morning. We could sec, througli the 
wire screens of the Avindows, the Worcester folks Avalking 
along the pavements with the sunlight shining on their 
Sunday finery. 

The lieutenant, as avc hurriedly despatched breakfast— 
for Ave were rather late—gave us his usual report. 

“ A very fine toAvn,” he said, addressing himself chiefly 
to Tita, who Avas always much interested in his morning 
rambles, “ Avith old religious buildings, and houses with 
ivy, and high Avails to keep back the river. There is a 
large racecourse, too, by the river; and on the other side a 
fine suburb, built on a high bank, among trees. There are 
many pleasant Avalks by the Severn, Avhen you get farther 
doAvn; but I Avill shoAV you all the place when Ave go out 
of the Cathedral. This is a great day at the Cathedral, 
they say—a chief sheriff of the county, 1 think they call 
him, is living at this hotel, and he is going; and you see 
those people? They are loitering about to see him drive 
away.” 

Even as he spoke, two resplendent creatures, in gray 
and gold, resembling beef-eaters toned doAvn in color and 
gilded, advanced to the archway, of the hotel, with long 


OF A PHAE TON. 


130 


trumpets in their liands. These they suddenly lifted, and 
down the quiet street sounded a Xondi fanfare., which was 
very much like those anouncernents tliat tell us, in an his¬ 
torical play, that the king approaches. Then a vehicle 
drove away from the door; the high sheriff had gone to 
the Cathedral; while our breakfast was not even yet fin¬ 
ished. 

“lie does not have the trumpets sounded every time he 
leaves the hotel ? ” said the lieutenant, returning from the 
Avindow. “Then why when he goes to church? Is it ex¬ 
ceptional for a high sheriff to go to church, that he calls at¬ 
tention to it with trumpets?” 

At this moment Arthur entered the room. He glanced 
at us all rather nervously. There Avas less comjdaisance, 
too, in his manner than Avhen Ave last saw him ; the sootli- 
ing influences of dinner had departed. lie saluted us all 
in a somewhat cool Avay, and then addressed himself exclu¬ 
sively to my lady. For Bell he had scarcely a Avord. 

It is hard to say Iioav Queen Tita managed, as Ave left 
the hotel, to attach Bell and herself to Master Arthur: hut 
such Avas the result of her dextrous manoeuvres; and in tliis 
fashion Ave hurriedly walked along to the Catliedral. There 
Avas a great commotion visible around the s})lendid building. 
A considerable croAvd had collected to see the high sheriff, 
and j)olicemen Avere keeping a lane for those Avho wisliod 
to enter. Seeing that Av^e Avere late, and that the high slieriff 
Avas sure to draw many after him, AA^e scarcely expected to 
get inside; but that, at least, Avas vouchsafed us, and pres¬ 
ently Ave found ourselves slipping quietly over the stone 
flooring. All the seats in the body of the building being 
occu})ied, Ave took up a ])osition by one of tlie great pillars, 
and there Avere confronted by a scene sufliciently impressive 
to those of us Avho had been accustomed to the ministrations 
of a small parish church. 

Far aAvay before us rose the tall and graceful lines of 
the architecture, until, in the distance, they Avere lost in a 
liaze of sunlight streaming in from the south—a glow of 
golden mist that struck upon the northern pillars, throAAung 
up a vague reflection that shoAved us something of the airy 
region in Avhich the lines of the great arches met. We 
could catch a glimpse, too, of the white-dressed choir beyond 
the sombre mass of the people that filled the naA'c. And 
when the hushed deep tones of the organ prelude had ceased 
to sound along the lofty aisles, there rose the distant and 


110 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


plaintive chanting of tlie boys, then the richer tones of 
tlib bass came in and then again burst forth tluit clear, sweet, 
triumphant soprano, that seemed to be but a single voice 
ringing softly and distantly through the great building. 
I knew what would occur tlien. Somehow Tita managed 
to slip away from us, and get into the shadow of tlie pillar, 
with her head bent down, and her hand clasped in Bell’s; 
and the girl stood so that no one should see her friend’s 
face, for there were tears running fast down it. It is a 
gad story, that has been already briefly mentioned in these 
memoranda. Many years ago she lost a young brother, to 
whom she was deeply attached. He used to sing in the 
choir of the village church. Now, whenever she listens to 
a choir singing that she cannot see, nothing will convince 
lior that slic does not hear the voice of her brother in the 
clear, distant music : and more than once it has liappened 
that the uncontrollable emotions caused by this wild sup- 
})erstition have thoroughly unnerved her. For days after, 
she has been haunted by the sound of that voice, as if it 
had brought her a message from the other world—as if she 
liad been nearly vouchsafed a vision that had been somehow 
snatched away from her, leaving behind an unexplained 
longing and unrest. Partly on that account, and ])artly 
by reason of the weariness ])roduced by constant standing, 
we were not sorry to slij) out of the Cathedral when the 
first portion of the service was over; and so we found our¬ 
selves once more in the sweet air and the sunlight. 

Tliere was an awkard pause. Tita rather fell behind, 
and endeavored to keep herself out of sight; while the other 
members of the party seemed uncertain as to how they 
should attach themselves. Fortunately, our first movement 
was to go round and inspect the curious remains of the old 
Cathedral, which are yet visible; and as these were close at 
hand, we started off in a promiscous manner, and got round 
and under King Edgar’s tower without any open rupture. 

How still and quiet lay the neighborhood of the great 
church on this beautiful Sunday morning! It seemed as 
if all the life of the place were gathered within that noble 
building ; while out here the winds from over the meadows, 
and the sunlight, and the fleecy clouds overhead, were left to 
j)lay about the strange old passages, and sunken arches, and 
massive gateways, and other relics of former centuries. 
The bright light that lay warm on the fresh grass, and on 


OF A PHAETON-. 


141 


the old tower, and showed ns the bruised edigy of King 
Edgar in sharp outline; while through the gloom of the 
archway we could see beyond the sliimmering green light 
of a mass of elms, with their leaves moving in the sun. 
From thence we passed down to the river wall, where the 
lieutenant read aloud the following legend inscribed near the 
gate: “ On the 18th of November, 1770, the Flood rose to 
the low’er edge of this Brass Plate, being ten inches higher 
than the Flood w'hich liappened on December 23d, 1672. ” 
And then w^e w^ent through the arch, and found ourselves 
on the banks of the Severn, wdth its bridges and boats and 
locks and fair green meadow^s, all as bright and as cheerful 
ass unlight could make them. 

Tita and myself, I know', would at this moment have 
given a good deal to get away from these young folks and 
their affairs. What business of ours W’as it tliat there 
should be a “ third w heel to the cart,” as the Germans say ? 
Arthur w'as sadly out of ])lace ; but how could w'e help it ? 
My lady having fallen rather behind as w’c started on our 
leisurely stroll along the river. Bell, the lieutenant, and 
Arthur w'ere forced to j)rccede us. The poor girl was 
almost silent betw'een them. Von Itosen was pointing out 
the various objects along the stream ; Arthur, in no amiable 
mood, throw’ing in an occasional sarcastic comment. Then 
more silence. Artluir breaks aw'ay from them and honors 
us wdth his company. Sometimes he listens to what my 
lady says to him ; but more often he does not, and only 
scowls at the two young folks in front of us. lie makes 
irrelevant replies. There is a fierceness in his look. I think 
at this moment he w'ould have been glad to have embrace<l 
IMormonism, or avowed his belief in Strauss, or done any¬ 
thing else desperate and wicked. 

AVhy, it w'as natural to ask, should this gentle little 
woman by my side be vexed by these evil humors and per¬ 
versities—her vexation taking the form of a profound com- 
]»assion, and a desire that she could secure the happiness 
of everybody ? The morning was a miracle of freshness. 
The banks of the Severn, once you leave Worcester, are 
singularly beautiful. Before us were islands, set amidst 
tall river w'eeds, and covered wdth thick grow'ths of bushes. 
A gray shimmering of wdllow’S came in as a line between 
the bold blue of the stream and the paler blue and white 
of the sky. Some tall poplars stood sharp and black against 
the light green of the meadow's behind and far away 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


IVl 

these level and sunlit meadows stretched over to Malvern 
Cliase and to the tliin line of blue hill along the horizon. 
Then the various boats, a group of riclily colored cattle in 
the fields, a few boys bathing under the shadow of a great 
bank of yellow sand—all went to make up as bright and 
pretty a river-picture as one could wish for. And hero 
we were almost afraid to speak, lest an incautious word 
sliould summon up thunder-clouds and provoke an ex- 
])losion. 

“ Have you any idea when you will reach Scotland ? 
says Artliur, still glaring at the lieutenant and his com¬ 
panion. 

“ No,” replies Tita; “ we are in no hurry.” 

“ Won’t you get tired of it ? ” 

“ I don’t think so at all. But if we do, we can stop.” 

“ You will izo through the Lake Country, of course ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“It is sure to be wet there,” said the young man. 

“ You don’t give us much encouragement,” says my 
lady gently. 

“Oh,” he replies, “ if people break away from the ordi¬ 
nary methods of enjoying a holiday, of course they must 
take their chance. In Scotland you are sure to have bad 
weather, it always rains there.” 

Arthur was determined that we should look upon the 
future stages of our journey with the most agreeable antici¬ 
pations. 

“Then,” he says, “ suppose your horses break down? ” 

“ They won’t,” says Tita, with a smile. “They know 
they are going to the land of oats. They will be in excel¬ 
lent spirits all the way.” 

Master Arthur went on to add,— 

“ I have always found that the worst of driving about 
with people was that it threw you so completely on the 
society of certain persons; and you are bound to quarrel 
with them.” 

“ That has not been our experience,” says my lady, 
with that gracious manner of hers which means much. 

Of course she would not admit that her playful skir¬ 
mishes with the person whom, above all others, she ought 
to respect, could be regarded as real quarrels. But at this 
point the lieutenant lingered for a moment to ask ray lady 
a question ; and as Bell also stopped and turned, Tita says 
to him, with an air of infinite amusement,— 


OF A PIJAETON. 


143 


“ Wo have not quarrelled yet, Count Von liosen ? ” 

“ I hope not, madame,” says our Uhlan, respectfully. 

“Because,” she continued, with a little laugh, “Arthur 
thinks wo are sure to disagree, merely on account of our 
being thrown so much into each other’s company.” 

“ I think quite the opposite will be the result of our so¬ 
ciety,” says the lieutenant. 

“Of course I did not refer particularly to you,” said 
Arthur, coldly. “ There are some men so hap]>ily consti¬ 
tuted that it is of no consequence to them how they are re¬ 
garded by their companions. Of course they are always 
well satisfied.” 

“ And it is a very good thing to be well satisfied,” says 
the lieutenant, cheerfully enougli, “ and much better tliaii 
to be ill satisfied and of much trouble to your friends. I 
think, sir, when you are as old as I, and have been over llie 
world as much, you will think more of the men who are 
wxdl satisfied.” 

“I hope my experience of the world,” says Arthur, 
with a certain determination in his tone, “ will not be gained 
by receiving pay to be sent to invade a foreign country—” 

“ Oh, Count Von Kosen,” says Bell, to call his atten¬ 
tion. 

“ IMademoiselle! ” he says, turning instantly towards 
her, although he had heard every word of Arthur’s s|)eech. 

“ Can you tell me the German name of that tall pink 
flower down by the edge of the water ? ” 

And so they walked on once more ; and we got farther 
away from the city—with its mass of slates and spires get¬ 
ting faint in the haze of the sunlight—and into the still 
greenness of the country, where the path by the river-side 
lay through deep meadows. 

It was hard, after all. lie had come from London to 
get speech of his sweetheart, and he found her walking 
through green meadows with somebody else. Islo mortal 
man—and least of all a young fellow not confident of his 
own position, and inclined to be rather nervous and anxious 
—could suffer this with equanimity; but, then, it was a 
question how far it was his own fault. 

“ Why don’t you go and talk to Bell? ” says my lady 
to him, in a low voice. 

“Oh, I don’t cai-e to thrust my society on any one,” he 
says aloud, with an jissumption of indifference. “There 
are eople who do not know the difference between an old 


144 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


friendship and a new acquaintance ; I do not seek to inter¬ 
fere with their tastes. I3ut of course, there is a meaning 
in every tiling. What are those lines of Pope’s— 

“ ‘ Oh say, what stranger cause, yet unexplored 
Could make a gen tie belle reject a lord 1* ’ 

I should not attempt to cure a woman of her instinctive 
liking for a title.” 

Tita placed her hand on his arm. After all, this excited 
young man was an old friend of hers; and it seemed a pity 
to see him thus determined to ruin his own cause. But 
the light talking we heard in front seemed to say that the 
“gentle Bell ” had not overheard that pretty speech and its 
interesting quotation. 

At length, coming to a sudden bend in the river, the 
lieutenant and his companion proposed that we should rest 
for a while ; and accordingly 'vve chose out comfortable seats 
on the steep green bank, covered by bushes and trees, which 
here slopes down to the stream. The picture that lay be¬ 
fore and around us was sufficient to have calmed the various 
moods and passions of these young folks, if they had but 
had eyes for anything but their own affairs. Bell was the . 
only one who paid attention to the world of bright colors 
that lay around. The lieutenant—imperturable, easy in 
manner, and very attentive to her—was nevertheless ob¬ 
viously on the watch.^ and certain to resent any remark that 
might by chance miss him and glance by towards her. 
Certainly, these were not comfortable conditions for a pleas¬ 
ant walk. Tita afterward declared that she was calcula¬ 
ting with satisfaction that she had already got through sev¬ 
eral hours of that terrible day. 

The sun was shining far away on the blue Malvern hills 
Along the level meadows the lines of pollard willow's were 
gray and silvery in the breezy light. Close at hand the rich 
masses of green were broken by the red sandstone bank 
opposite ; while the tall trees above sent straggling dupli¬ 
cates of themselves—colored in deep chocolate brow'ii— 
dow’n into the lazy stream that flowed beneath us. And as 
we sat there and listened for the first ominous observation 
of one or another of these young folks, lo! there glided 
into the clear w'hite and blue channel of the river a gayly 
bedizened barge that gleamed and glittered in the sunlight, 
and sent quivering lines of color dow'ii into the w'ater. The 


OF A PHAETON, 


145 


horse came slowly nlong the road. The long rope rustled 
over the brushwood on the bank, and splashed on the sur¬ 
face of the stream. The orange and scarlet bands of the 
barge stole away up and through that world of soft green¬ 
ness that lay under the shadow of the opposite bank ; and 
then the horse, and rope, and driver turned the corner of a 
field, and we saw them no more. 

The appearance of the barge had provoked attention 
and secured silence. When it was gone the lieutenant 
turned carelessly to Arthur, and said,— 

“ Do you go back to London to-morrow ? ” 

“1 don’t know,” said the young man, gloomily. 

“ It is such a pity you can’t come with us Arthur,” says 
Bell, very gently, as if begging for a civil reply. 

“ I have no doubt you will enjoy yourselves very well,” 
lie re))lies, with a certain coldness in liis tone. 

“We have hitherto,” she says, looking down; “the 
weather has been so good—and—and the scenery was so 
]>leasant—and—and—” 

It was Arthur himself, singularly enough, who came to 
the rescue, little knowing that he was affording her such 
relief. 

“ I don’t think you have chosen the right road,” he re¬ 
marked. “ The real reminiscences of the old stage-coach 
days you will find on the York and Berwick road to Scot¬ 
land. I never heard of any one going to Scotland this way.” 

“ Why,” says one of the jiarty, with a laugh that seemed 
to startle the stillness around, “ that is the very reason wo 
chose it.” 

“ I have been thinking for some time,” he says, coldly, 
“ of getting a dog-cart and driving up the old route to Scot¬ 
land.” 

The heavens did not fall on him. Queen Tita looked 
at the tips of her gloves, and said nothing ; but Bell, having 
less of scepticism about her, immediately cried out,— 

“Oh, Arthur, don’t do that; it will be dreadfully 
wretched for you, going away on such an excursion by 
yourself.” 

But the young man saw that his proposal—I will swear 
it had never entered his brain before that very minute— 
had produced an effect, and treated it as a definite resolve. 

“ At least, if you are going, you might as well come 
with us, or meet us farther on, where the roads join,” says 


IIG 


THE STKAHGE ADVENTURES 


“ Xo I am not so mad as to go your way,” he replied, 
with an air of disdain. “ I sliall keep out of the rainy dis- 
ti-icts, and I mean to go where one can find traces of the 
old times still hanging about.” 

“ And pray,” I venture to ask him, “ are all the old inns 
confined to one part of this unfortunate oountry ? And 
were there no ways of getting to Scotland but by York and 
Berwick ? Why, over the whole country there is a net-work 
of routes along which stage-coaches used to run. And if 
you should be tired of driving alone, you can do no better 
than strike across country from York by the old coach-road 
that comes on to Penrith, and so go up with us through 
Carlisle Moffat on to Edinburgh.” 

“ I am not so sure that I shall go alone,” he said, quite 
fiercely. 

What did the boy mean ? Was he going to drive a white 
elephant about the country ? 

“Do you know much of the management of horses ? ” 
says the lieutenant, meaning no harm whatever. 

“ Arthur is in the volunteer artillery—the field artillery, 
do they call it?—and of course he has to manage horses,” 
explains my lady. 

“Oh, you area volunteer?” said the lieutenant, with 
quite an accession of interest. “ That is very good thing. 
I think all the young men of this country would do much 
good to their health and their knowledge by being volun- 
teei's and serving a time of military service.” 

“But we don’t like compulsion here,” says Arthur, 
bluntly. 

“ That,” retorts the lieutenant, with a laugh, “ is why 
you are at present a very ill-educated country.” 

“At all events,” says Arthur, rather hotly, “ we are ed¬ 
ucated well enough to have thrown aside the old supersti¬ 
tions of feudalism and divine right, and we are too well e<l- 
ucated to suffer a despotic government and a privileged 
aristocracy to have it all their own Avay.” 

“ Oh, you do talk of Prussia, yes ? ” said the count. 
“Well, wo are not perfect in Prussia. We have many 
things to learn and to do, that we might have done if we 
liad been preserved round about by the sea, like you. But 
I think we have done very Avell, for all tliat; and if avo 
ha\>e a despotic government, Avhich 1 do not think it is, 
|>erhaps because Avhat is good for England is not aUvays 
g(.od for every other country; and if we have an arisioc- 


OF A PHAETON. 


147 


racy, they work for the country just like tlie sons of peasants, 
wlien they go into the army, and get small pay, instead of 
going abroad like your aristocracy, and gambling away 
their fortunes to the Jews and getting into debt and making 
very much fools of themselves.” 

‘‘When we of this country,” says Arthur, proudly, “see 
the necessity of military preparations, we join the ranks of 
a body that accepts no pay, but is none the less qualified to 
fight when that is wanted.” 

“ Oh, I do say nothing against your volunteers. No, on 
the contrary, I tliink it is an excellent thing for the young 
men. And it would be better if the service was continu¬ 
ous for one, two, or three j’-ears, and they go away into 
barrack life, and have much drill and exercise in the open 
air, and make the young men of the cities hardy and strong. 
That would be a very good array then, I think ; for when 
the men are intelligent and educated, they have less chance 
of panic—which is the worst that can happen in a battle— 
and they will not skulk away, or lose tlieir courage, be¬ 
cause they have so much self-respect. But I do not know 
whether this is safer—to have the more ignorant men of 
the peasantry and country people who will take their drill 
like machines and go through it all, and continue firing in 
great danger, because they are like machines. Now, if you 
had your towns fighting against the country, and if you had 
your town volunteers and your country regiments with thor 
same amount of instruction, I think the country troops 
would win, although each man might not have as much 
j)atriotism and education and .self-respect as in the town 
soldiers. Because the country troops would march long 
distances—and would not be hurt much by rain or the 
slee})ing out at night—and they would go through their 
duties like machines when the fight commenced. But your 
city volunteers—they have not yet got anything like the 
training of your regular troops that come from the country 
villages and towns.” 

“ I know this,” says Arthur, “ that if there was to bo an 
invasion of this country by Prussia, a regiment of our city 
volunteers would not be afraid to meet a regiment of your 
professional soldiers, however countrified and mechanical 
they may be—” 

“ Ah, but that is a great mistake you make,” says the 
lieutenant, taking no notice of the challenge ; “our soldiers 
arc not of any single class—they are from all classes, from 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


liS 

all towns, and villages, an cities alike—much ^norc like 
your volunteers than your regular soldiers, only that they 
liave some more drill and experience than your volunteers. 
And what do you say of an invasion? I have heard some 
people talk of that nonsense, hut only in England. Is it 
that you are afraid of invasion that you imagine these fool¬ 
ish things, and talk so much of it ? 

“ No, we arc not afraid of it—” says Arthur, evidently 
casting about for some biting epigram. 

“Vet no one in all Europe sj>eaks or thinks of such a 
thing but a few of your people here, who give great amuse¬ 
ment to us at home.” 

“ There would be amusement of another sort going,” 
says Arthur, getting a little red. 

And just at this instant, before he has time to finish the 
sentence, Tita utters a little scream. A stone has splashed 
into the stream beneath us. The author of the menace is 
unknown—being j)robably one of a gang of young rascals 
liidden behind the bushes on the other side of the river— 
but it is certainly not anger that dwells in my lady’s bosom 
with regard to that concealed enemy. lie has afforded her 
relief at a most critical moment; and now she prevents 
Arthur returning to the subject by proposing that we should 
walk back to Woi-cester; her suggestion being fully under¬ 
stood to be a command. 

We set out. The lieutenant wilfully separates himself 
from Bell. He joins us elderly folks on the pretence of 
being much interested in this question of Volunteer service 
—and Bell and Arthur are perforce thrown together. They 
Avalk on in front of us, in rather an embarrassed way. Bell’s 
looks are cast down; Arthur streaks in a loud voice, to le* 
us know that lie is only talking about the most common¬ 
place affairs. But at the first stile we go through, they 
manage to fall behind ; and when, at intervals, Ave turn to 
see how the river and the meadows and the groves of trees 
look in the sunshine, Ave find the distance between us and 
the young couple gradually increasing, until they are but 
two almost undistinguishable figurespacing along the banks 
of the broad stream. 

“ Well, we liavc got so far over the day I ” said my lady, 
Avith a sigh. “ But 1 suppose av'o must ask him to dine Avith 

U8.” 

“Is it necessary, madame ? ” sjiys the lieutenant. “ But 


OF A PHAETON. 


119 


pcrhni/S you might ask him to bring better manners wilh 
him.” 

“ I am afraid he has been very rude to you,” said Tita, 
witli some show of com])unction. 

“Tome? No. Tliat is not of any consequence what¬ 
ever, but I did think tliat all tliis jileasant walk had been 
spoiled to mademoiselle and yourself by—by what shall I 
say ?—not rudeness, but a fear of rudeness. And yet, what 
reason is there for it ? ” 

“I don’t know,” was the reply, uttered in rather a low 
voice. “ But I hope Bell is not being annoyed by him 
now.’^ 

You see, that was the way in which they had got to 
regard this unfortunate yonth—as a sort of neccessary evil, 
which was to be accepted wuth such equanimity as Heaven 
had granted to the various sufferers. It never occurred to 
them to look at the matter from Arthur’s point of view, or 
to reflect that tliere w'as probably no more wretched creature 
in the whole of English that he was during this memorable 
Sunday. 

Consider how he spent the day. It was the one day on 
which he would have the chance of seeing Bell for an un¬ 
known period. He comes round in the morning to find her 
sitting at breakfast with his rival. He accompanies them 
on a walk into the country; finds liimself “ the third wheel 
to tlie cart,” and falls behind to enjoy the spectacle of see¬ 
ing her walk by the side of this other man, talking to him 
and sharing with him the beautiful sights and sounds around. 
Ye who have been transfixed by theredhot skewers of jeal¬ 
ousy, think of the torture which this wretched young man 
suffered on this quiet Sunday morning. Then, as he walks 
home with her, he finds her, as we afterward learn, annoyed 
about certain remarks of his. He explains in a somewhat 
saucy manner, and makes matters worse. Then he takes to 
reproaches, and bids her reflect on what people will say; 
and here again he goes from one blunder to another in talk¬ 
ing in such a fashion to a proud and high-spirited girl, who 
cannot suffer herself to be suspected. In this blindness of 
anger and jealousy, he endeavors to asperse the character of 
the lieutenant—he is like other ofiicers—every one knows 
what the Prussian ofiicers, in general, arc—what is the mean¬ 
ing of this thing and the dark suspicion suggested by that. 
I'o all of these representations Bell replies with some little 
natural warmth. He is driven wild by her defence of his 


150 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


rival. He declares that he knows something about the lieu¬ 
tenant’s reputation; and then she, probably with a little 
])alcness in her face, stands still, and asks him calmly to say 
what it is. He will not. He is not going to carry tales. Only, 
when an English lady has so little care of what people may 
say as to accept this foreign adventurer as her companion 
during a long journey— 

That was all that Bell subsequently told Tita. The boy 
was obviously mad and reckless, but none the less he had 
wrought such mischief as he little dreamed of in uttering 
these wild complaints and suspicions. When we got back 
to the hotel, he and Bell had overtaken us, and they had tlie 
appearance of not being on tlie best of terms. In fact, they 
had maintained silence for the last quarter of an hour of 
the walk. 

My lady asked Arthur to dine with us at seven ; so that 
during the interval he was practically dismissed. Seven came, 
and Arthur appeared. He was in evening dress; convey¬ 
ing a rebuke to uncouth people like ourselves, who were in 
our ordinary travelling costume. But Bell’s seat was vacant. 
After we had waited a few minutes. Queen Tita went to in¬ 
quired for her, and in a few moments returned. 

“ Bell is very sorry, but slie has a headache, and would 
rather not come down to dinner.” 

Arthur looked up with an alarmed face ; the lieutenant 
scowled ; and Tita, taking her seat, said she was afraid we 
had walked too far in the morning. Strange. If you had 
seen our Bell walking lightly up to the top of Box Hill, and 
running down again—just by way of amusement before 
lunch—you would not have expected that a short walk of 
a mile or two along a level river-course would have had such 
an effect. But so it was ; and w^e had dinner before us. 

It was not an enlivening meal; and the less said about it, 
the better. Arthur talked much of his driving to Scotland 
in a dog-cart, and magnified the advantages of the York route 
over that we were now following. It is quite certain that 
he had never thought of such a thing before that morning; 
but the attention that had been drawn to it, and the man¬ 
ner in w'hich he had been led to boast of it, promised ac¬ 
tually to commit him to this piece of folly. The mere sug¬ 
gestion of it had occurred at the impulse of a momentary 
vexation ; but the more he talked of it, the more he pledged 
himself to carry out his preposterous scheme. Tita heard 
and wondered, scarcely believing; but I could see plainly 


OF A PHAETON-. 


151 


that the young man was determined to fulfil his promise, 
if only by way of triumphant bravado, to show his inde- 
]>endence of us, and perhaps inspire Bell with envy and 
regret. 

When he left that night, something was said about his 
coming to see us away on the following morning. Tita had 
shown her usual consideration in not referring at all to our 
drive of the next day, whicli she understood was to be 
through the most charming scenery. And when, that same 
night, she expressed a vague desire that we might slip away 
on the next morning l)efore Arthur had come, it was witli 
no thought of carrying such a plan into execution. Per- 
liaps she thought with some pity of the young man who, 
after seeing us drive away again into the country, and the 
sweet air, and the sunlight, would return disconsolately to 
his dingy rooms in the Temple, there to think of his abs^^nc 
sweetheart, or else to meditate that wild journey along a 
parallel line which was to show her, that he, too, had his en- 
enjoyments. 

[Note. —I find that the remarks wliich Queen Titania appended 
to the foregoing pages when they were written have since been torn 
off ; and I can guess the reason. A few days ago I received a letter, 
sent under cover to the publishers, which bore the address of that por¬ 
tion of the country familiarly called the “ Dukeries.” It was written in 
a feminine hand, and signed with a family name which has some his¬ 
torical pretensions. Now these were the observations which this silly 
person in high places had to communicate : “6’ir, 1 hope you will for¬ 
give my intruding myself upon you in this way; but I am anxious to 
know whether you really do think living xoith such a woman as your 
xoife is represented to be, is really a matter for raillery and amuse¬ 
ment. 3Iy object in writing to you is to say that, if you can treat 
lightly the fact of a wife being waspish at every turn, cuffing her boys' 
ears, and talking of whipping, it would have been better not to have 
made your extraordinary complaisance public ; for what is to pre¬ 
vent the most ill-tempered woman ’pointing to these pages, and say¬ 
ing that that is how a reasonable husband would deal with her 9 If 
it is your misfortune to have an ill-tempered wife, you ought not to try 
to persuade people that you are rather proud of it. Pray forgive my 
writing thus frankly to you ; and I am sir, your obedient servant, 

-By a great mischance I left this letter lying open on 

the breakfast-table ; and Tita, coming in, and being attracted by the 
crest in gold and colors on the paper, took it up. With some dismay, 
I watched her read it. She let it down—stood irresolute for a mo¬ 
ment, with her lips getting rather tremulous—then she suddenly fled 
into the haven she had often sought before in her troubles, and look¬ 
ing up with the clear brown eyes showing themselves frightened and 
pained, like those of some dumb creature struck to the heart, sbe 
said, “ Is it true ? Am I really ill-tempered ? Do I really vex you 
very much?" You maybe sure that elderly lady up in Nutting- 



152 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


hamshire had an evil quarter of an hour of it when we proceeded tc 
discuss the question, and wlicn Queen Tita liad been paciiiedand re¬ 
assured. “ But we oui^ljt to have known,” she said. “Count von 
Kosen warned us that stupid persons would make the mistake. And 
to say that I cuffed my boys’ ears ! Why, you know tliat even in tlie 
Magazine it says that I cuifed the boys and kissed them at tlie same 
time—of course, in fun—and I threatened to whip tlie W'hole house 
—of course, in fun, you know, when ever>'body was in good spirits 
about going away—and now that wicked old woman would make mo 
out an unnatural mother, and a bad wife, and I don’t know what ! I 
—I—I will get Bell to draw a portrait of her, and put it on exhibi¬ 
tion—that would serve her right.” And forthwith she sat down and 
w'rote to the two boys at Twickenham, promising them I know’ not 
wdiat luxuries and extravagances when they came home for the Eas¬ 
ter holidays. But she is offended with the public, all through that 
gabbling old lady in Notts ; and will have no more communication 
with it, at least for the present.] 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SAVED I 

Unto the great Twin Brethren 
AVe keep this solemn feast. 

Swdft, swift the gre.at Twin Brethren 
Came spurring from the east ! ” 

Castor and Pollux did us notable service that morning 
at Worcester. Arthur was coming round to see Bell before 
we started. Queen Tita was oppressed by anxious fears ; 
and declared that now the great crisis had come, and that 
the young man from Tw’ickenham would demand some 
})ledge from Bell as he bade her good-by. The dread of 
this danger drove the kindly little woman into such exag¬ 
gerations of^ his misconduct of yesterday that I began to 
wonder if this Arthur were really the same lad she used to 
])et and think so much of when he came dowm to Leather- 
head and dawdled with my lady and Bell along the Surrey 
lanes of an evening. What has changed him since then ? 

“ You are pleased to be profound,” says Tita, abruptly. 

Well, I was only pointing out to her that one of the chief 
accomplishments of life is consideration for the sick ; and 
that whereas nearly all women seem to have an inherited 
instinct that way, men only acquire the habit as the result 



OF A PHAETON. 


153 


of experience and reflection. Indeed, wttli most wonren, 
the certain passport to their interest and kindliness is to be 
tmwell and exact a great deal of patient service from them. 
Now—I was saying to Tita, when she uttered that unneces¬ 
sary rebuke—why don’t women show the same considera¬ 
tion to those who are mentally ailing?—to the unfortunate 
persons whose vexed and irritated brain renders them 
peevish and ill-tempered? Once get a patient down with 
fever, and all his fractious complainings are soothed, and all 
his querulous whims are humored. But when the same 
man is rendered a little insane by meeting with a disa})})oint- 
ment—or if he is unable to stand being crossed in argu 
ment, so that the mildest statement about some such con¬ 
tested subject as the American War, Governor Eyre, or the 
Annexation of Alsace, sends a flash of flame througli his 
head—why should not the like allowance be made foi* his 
infirmities? Why should the man who is ill-tenq^ered be¬ 
cause of a fever be humored, caressed, and coaxed ; and tlie 
man who is ill-tempered because his reason is liable to 
attacks of passion, be regarded as an ill-conditioned boor, 
not fit for the society of well-l)red ladies and gentlemen. 

“I think,” says Tita, with a little warmth, “you do 
nothing now but try to invent excuses for Arthur. And 
it is not fair. I am very sorry for him if he is so vexed 
that he loses his temper, but that does not excuse his 
being absolutely rude.” 

“But his rudeness is part of his ailment.” I venture to 
say. “Ordinarily, he is the mildest and gentlest of young 
men, who would shrink from a chai-ge of rudeness as the 
worst thing you could urge against him. At present he is 
off his head, lie does not know what he says—or ratlier, 
he is incapable of controlling his utterances. He is really 
sick with a fever—though it isn’t one of those, apparently, 
that secure the commiseration of even the most angelic of 
women.” 

I regarded that last expression as rather effective; but 
no. My lady remarked that she was not accustomed to the 
treatment of the insane ; and that another day such as 
that she had just passed would soon make her as ill as 
himself. 

Our Bonny Bell did not seem so disturbed as might 
have been expected. When we went down to the coffee- 
room we found the lieutenant and her sitting at opposite 
sides of a small table, deeply engaged over a sheet of paper. 


154 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


On’onr cnlrnnce tlie document was liastily folded up and 
smuggled away. 

“ It is a secret,” said the lieutenant, anticipating inquiry. 
“ You shall not know until we are away on our journey 
again. It is a ])acket to be opened in a quiet place—no 
houses near, no persons to listen ; and then—and then—” 

“ Perhaps it will remain a secret ? lUen! Life is not 
long enough to let one meddle with secrets ; they take up 
BO much time in explanation, and then they never contain 
anything.” 

“ Put this is a very wonderful thing,” said the lieutenant, 
“and you must hurry to get away from Worcester that 
you shall hear of it.” 

We were, however, to have another sealed packet that 
morning. Master Artliur, knowing full well tliat lie would 
have but little chance of speaking privately with Pell, had 
intrusted his thoughts to a jiiecc of jiaper and an envelojie ; 
and just as we were in the liurry of departure, the young 
man appeared. The truth was, the lieutenant had ordered 
the horses to be put in some quarter of an hour before the 
time we had said we should start; and my lady showed so 
much anxiety to set forth at once that I saw she hoped to 
leave before Arthur came. 

The jihaeton stood in the archway of the hotel, and on 
the stone stejis were Hung the rugs and books. 

“My dear,” says Tita, rather anxiously, to Pell, “do 
get in ! The horses seem rather fresh, and—and— " 

“Won’t you wait to bid gooddiy to Arthur?” says 
Pell. 

“It is impossible to say when he will come—he will 
understand—I will leave a message for him,” says Queen 
Titania, all in a breath ; and with that the lieutenant assists 
Bell to get u]) in front. 

I have the reins in my hands, awaiting orders. The 
last rugs are thrown uj), books stowed away, everything in 
readiness ; Tita takes her seat behind, and the lieutenant is 
on the point of getting up. 

At this moment Arthur comes round the corner, is 
amazed for a moment to see us ready to start, and then 
suddenly brings out a letter. 

“ Pell,” he says, “ I—I have—there is something here I 
want you to see—only a moment, and you can give mo 
an answer now—yes or no—” 

The unfortunate young man was obviously greatly 


OF A PBAFTOM 


155 


excited; Ids face quite pale, and his speech rapid and 
broken. He handed up the letter ; the crisis that Tita had 
endeavored to avoid had come. But in this our darkest 
hour—as I have already hinted—Castor and Pollux came 
to the rescue. It was the battle of the Lake Regillus acted 
once again in the gateway of the Worcester Star Hotel. 
For Pollux, casting Ids head about and longing to start, 
managed to fix his bit on the end of the pole; and, of 
course, a wild scene ensued. Despite the efforts of the 
hostler, the horse threw himself back on his haunches; the 
phaeton described a curve, and was driven against the wall 
wdth a loud crash ; the people about fled in every direction, 
and the lieutenant jumped out and sprung to the horses’ 
lieads. Pollux w^as still making violent efforts to extricate 
himself, and Castor, having become excited, was plunging 
about; so that fora moment it seemed as though tlie vehi¬ 
cle would be shattered in pieces against the wall of the 
court. The women were quite still, except that Tila 
uttered a little surpressed cry as she saw the lieutenant 
hanging on the rearing horses. He stuck manfully to their 
heads, and, with the assistance of the hostler, at last 
managed to get the bit off. Then both horses sprung for¬ 
ward. It would have been impossible to have confined 
them longer in this narrow place. The lieutenant leaped 
in behind; and the next moment the phaeton was out in 
the main street of Worcester, both horses plunging and 
pulling so as to turn all eyes towards us. Certainly, it was a 
good thing the thoroughfare was pretty clear. The great Twin 
Brethren, not knowing what diabolical occurrence had 
marked their setting-out, were speeding away from the place 
with might and main; and with scarcely a look at Worces¬ 
ter we found ourselves out in the country again, amidst 
quiet and wooded lanes, with all the sweet influences of a 
bright summer morning around us. 

“ I hope you are not luirt,” said my lady to the lieu¬ 
tenant, who was looking about to see whether the smash 
had taken some of the paint off, or done other damage. 

“Oh, not in the least, madame,” he said, “but I find 
that one of my boots is cut, so that I think the shoe of the 
horse must have done it. And has he caught on the polo 
before?” 

“ Only once,” she says. 

“ Then I would have the bit made with bars across, so 


156 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


that it will be more difficult ; for suppose this did happen 
in the road, and there was a ditch, and lie backed you—” 
“I suppose we should go over,” remarked Queen Tita, 
philosophically. “ But it is strange liow often accidents 
in driving might occur, and how seldom they do occur. 
But we must really have the bit altered.” 

“ Well,” I say to my gentle companion, “what message 
did you leave with Arthur ? ” 

“ I could not leave any,” said Bell, “ for of course when 
the horses went back, he had to get out of their way. But 
he will understand that I will write to him.” 

“ Have you read the letter ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Do, like a good girl, and have it over. That is always 
the best way. You must not go into this beautiful country 
that lies ahead with a sort of cloud over you.” 

So Bell took out the letter, and furtively opened it. She 
read it carefully over, without uttering a word; then slie 
continued looking at it for a long time. 

“ I am very glad that accident occurred,” she remarked, 
in a low voice. “ He said I was to answer ‘ yes ’ or ‘ no.’ 
I could not do that to such a letter as this ; and if I had 
refused, he would have been very much hurt. I will write 
to him from whatever place we stop at to-night.” 

This resolution seemed greatly to comfort her. If any 
explanation were needed, it was postponed until the even¬ 
ing ; and in the mean time we had fine weather, fresh air, 
and all the bright colors of an English landscape around us. 
Bell rapidly resumed her ordinary good spirits. She begged 
to have the reins; and when these had been handed over 
to her, with various cautions, the excitement of driving a 
pair of horses that yet showed considerable signs of fresh¬ 
ness brought a new color into her cheeks. The route which 
we now followed was one of the prettiest we had yet met 
with. Instead of following the old stage-coach route by 
Droitwich, we struck almost due north by a line of small 
and picturesque villages lying buried in the heart of this 
deeply wooded country. The first of these was Ombersley 
—a curious little clump of cottages, nearly all of which 
were white, with black bars of wood work crossed and re- 
crossed ; and they had odd gables, and decorations, so that 
they looked almost like toy-cottages. Wearing white and 
black in this prominent way, our Uhlan immediately claimed 
them as Prussian property; but beyond the faet of their 


OF A PHAETON. 


157 


showing tlie Prussian colors, there was little else foreign- 
looking about those old-fashioned Englisli houses lying along 
this level lane, and half hidden amidst elms. As we got up 
into the higher grounds above Ombersley Ave found around 
us a very pleasant landscape; and it seemed to strike my 
gentle-eycd companion that the names of the villages around 
had been chosen to accord Avith the tender and sylvan 
beauties of this pretty piece of country. One of the sign- 
j'osts we passed had inscribed on it, “ To Doverdale and 
Hampton Lovett.” Then in the neighborhood are Elmley 
Lovett, Elmbridge, Crossway Green, and Gardeners’ Grove ; 
Avhile down between these runs Doverdale Brook, skirting 
Westmoor Park, the large house of Avhich Ave could see as 
a faint blue mound amidst the general leafage. The country, 
which is flat about Ombersley, gets more undulating about 
Hartlebury and on towards Kidderminister. The roads 
Avind up and down gentle hills, Avith tall and ruddy banks 
of sand on each side, which are hanging Avith every variety 
of wild floAvers and wayside Aveed. On both hands dense 
Avoods come down to these tall and picturesque banks; 
and you driA^e through an atmosphere laden with moist and 
resinous scents. 

It Avas fortunate for us, indeed, that before starting we 
had lived for a time in town ; for all the various perfumes 
of the hedges and fields came upon us Avith a surprise. 
EA'ery noAv and again, on these cool and breezy mornings, 
Ave would dri\^e past a hayfield, with the fresh and sweet 
odors blowing all around ; or perhaps it was a great clump 
of Avild-rose bushes that filled the air Avith delicate scent. 
Then the lime-trees Avere in flowers; and who does not 
know the delight of passing under the boughs laden Avith 
blossom, Avhen the bees are busy overhead ? More rarely, 
but still frequently enough in this favored country, a Avhiff 
of honeysuckle Avas borne to us as we passed. And if these 
things sAveetened the Avinds that bleAV about us, consider 
Avhat stars of color refreshed the eye as we drove gently 
past the tall hedgeroAV’^s and borders of AVOods—the golden 
rock-roses, purple patches of Avild thyme, the Avhite glim¬ 
mering of stitchwort and campion, the yellow spires of the 
snapdragon, and a thousand others. And then, when avo 
ceased to speak, there Avas no blank of silence. AAvay OA^er 
the hayfield the lark floated in the blue, making the air 
quiver Avith his singing; the robin, perched on a fence, 
looked at us saucily, and piped a few notes by way of re- 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


loS 

mark; the blackbird was heard, flute-throated, down in 
tlie hollow recesses of the woods; and the thrush, in a 
holly tree by the way side, sung out his sweet, clear song, 
that seemed to rise in strength as the wind awoke a sudden 
rustling through the long woods of birch and oak. 

“Well, touching that sealed packet?” says my lady, 
aloud. 

“ Oh no, madame,” replies the lieutenant. “ This is 
not the time for it. If I must tell you the truth, it is only 
.a drinking-song I have been trying to remember of a young 
Englishman who was at Bonn with mo; and mademoiselle 
was so good this morning as to alter some of the words. 
But now?—a drinking song in this fine, quiet country?— 
no. After we have got to Kidderminster, and when we 
drive away after lunch, then mademoiselle will play for 
you the air I did show to her, and I will sing you the song. 
All what is needed is that you drink some Khine wine at 
Kidderminster to make you like the song.” 

“ Kidderminster Rhine wine! ” exclaims one of the 
party, with a groan. lie knows that whatever is suggeste<l 
now by the lieutenant finds favor wilh a clear majority of 
the party. 

“ That was a very good young fellow,” continues the 
lieutenant, as we drive over a higli slope, and come in view 
of a mass of manufactories. “Very big and strong he 
was; we did call him der grosse Englander always; and 
one time, in the winter, when there was much snow, we 
had a supper-party at liis room. We had many duels then, 
for we were only boys, but the Englishman was not sup¬ 
posed to be challenged, for he knew nothing of our swords, 
but he was always ready to fight with his fists, for all that. 
And this evening, I am afraid we did drink too much beer, 
and young Schweitzer of Madgeburgh—he died at Konig- 
gratz, the unfortunate, in ’6G—he was very angry with the 
Englander for laughing at his sweetheart, who was but 
a young lady in a school there. a\nd he challenged the 
Englishman, and went up to him, and said he would not 
go away until there was a fight; and do you know what 
your countryman did? lie lifted Schweitzer up in his 
arms, like a baby, and carried him down the stairs, and 
opened the door, and put him in the snow outside, very 
genlly. There was so much laughing over that, that wo 
all said it was very good ; and Schweitzer was grown sober 
by the cool of the snow; and he laughed too, and I think 


OF A PI/AETOJV. 


150 


they swore bruderschaft about it afterward. Ob, he was 
a very clever fellow, your countryman, and had more de¬ 
light in our songs tlian any German I ever knew. But do 
you know how that is ? ” 

Madame said it was no wonder any one should be in 
love with the German songs; but the lieutenant shook his 
head. 

“ That is not it at all: no. This is it—that when you 
know only a little of a language, you do not know what is 
commonplace in it. The simple phrase which is common¬ 
place to others that h all full of meaning to you. So 1 find 
it with your English. You would laugh if I told you that 
I find much meaning in poetry that you think only good 
for children, and in old-fashioned writing, which looks af¬ 
fected now. Because, madame, is it not true that all com¬ 
monplace phrases meant some new thing a tone time ? It 
is only my ignorance that I do not know they have grown 
old and worth little. Now the evening at Twickenham 
I did hear you go over the names of old-fashioned English 
songs, and much fun was made of the poetry. But to me 
that was very good—a great deal of it—because nothing in 
English is to me commonplace as yet.” 

“ How fortunate you must be ! ” says one of us, with a 
sigh. 

“ You laugh when you say,‘ on^ thou shining river P 
Why ! The river flows; and it shines. I see a clear picture 
out of the words—like the man who wrote them; I am not 
accustomed to them so as to think them stupid. Then I saw 
you laugh when some one said, ‘ I dreamt that I dwelt in 
marble halls^ I did read that song; and although it is 
stupid that the man thinks he will live in marble halls, I 
found much tenderness in it. So with this young English¬ 
man. He knew nothing of what was commonplace in our 
language. If you gave him children’s rhymes, he looked 
at the meaning, and judged it all by that. And when we 
showed him stiff, artificial verses of old times, he seemed to 
go back to the time when they were written, and believe 
much in them, and like them. That is a very good thing 
in ignorance, I think—when you know not much of a 
language, and every word has much meaning in it, and there 
is no commonplace anywhere.” 

This lecture of the lieutenant took us into Kiddermins¬ 
ter. What married man is not familiar with the name, 
held up to him as an awful threat in reply to his gruui- 


ICO 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


blings about tlie price of Turkey and Brussels carpets ? As 
we drove into the busy town, signs of the prevailing manu¬ 
facture were everywhere apparent in the large red-brick 
factories. We put up at The Lion, and while Von Rosen 
went off to buy himself a new pair of boots, we went for a 
stroll up to the interesting old church, the lino brasses and 
marble monuments of which have drawn many a stranger 
to the spot. Then we climbed to the top of the tower, 
and from the zinc roof thereof had a s})acious view over 
the level and wooded country, which was deeply streaked 
by bands of purple, where the clouds threw their shadows. 
Far below us lay the red, busy smoky town, set amidst 
green fields; while the small river ran through it like a 
black snake, for the bed had been drained, and in the dark 
mud a multitude of boys could be seen wading, scooping 
about for eels. When we descended. Von Rosen had got 
his boots, and was prowling about the churchyard, reading 
the curious inscriptions there. One of them informed the 
world of the person laid beneath that, “ added to the 
character of a Gentleman, his actions were coeval with his 
Integrity, Hospitality, and Benevolence.” But our amiable 
guide, who had pointed out to us all the wonderful features 
of Kidderminster and its neighborhood, evidently looked 
on one ])articular gravestone as the chief curiosity of the 
place; for this,he informed us,was placed over a man who 
had prc]>arcd tlie vault and the inscription ten years before 
his death. Here is the legend,- 

“ To the Memory of 
John Orton, 

A Man from Leicesti:rsiiire. 

And when he is dead he must lie imder ITere.” 

The man from Leicestershire was not “ alone among 
mortals ” in anticipating his end in this fashion, but no 
matter. A man may well be allowed to humor himself in 
the way of a tombstone; it is the last favor he can ask 
fi-om the world. 

“ Now,” said the lieutenant, as we drove away from 
this manufacturing town into the fresh country again, “ shall 
I sing you the song which the young Englisliman used to 
sing for us, or shall wo wait until tlie evening ? ” 

“Now, by all means, ” said Bell; “and if you will be 
so good as to give me out the guitar I will try to play you 
an accompaniment.” 


OF A PHAETON’. 


ICl 


“ A guitar accompaniment to a drinking-song! ” says 
Titania. 

“ Oh, but this is not a drinking-song, exactly, madame ; 
it is a very moral song; and we shall discuss each verse as 
it goes along, and you will make alterations of it.’’ 

So he got out the guitar. We were now far away from 
any houses—all around us great woods, that lay dark and 
green under a clouded afternoon sky. The road was very 
hilly; and sometimes, from the summit of a great height, 
we caught a glimpse of a long western stretch of country, 
lying blue and misty under the gray sky. Behind us, Kid¬ 
derminster looked like a dusky red splatch in a plain of 
green ; and all around it the meadows and fields were low 
and intense in color. But then in the west we could see 
an occasional glimpse of yellow in the pall of cloud ; and 
we hoped the sunset would break througli the veil. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the lieutenant, “ the song 
I am about to sing to you—” 

Here Bell began to play a light prelude ; and without 
further introduction our Uhlan startled the silence of the 
woods and fields by singing, in a profound and melancholy 
voice, the first two versos of the ballad composed by tho 
young Englishman at Bonn, which ran somewhat as fol¬ 
lows :— 

“ Oh, Burgundy isn’t a good thing to drink, 

Young man I beseech you, consider and think, 

Or else in your nose, and likewise in your toes, 

You’ll discover the color of Burgundy rose : 

Burgundy rose. Burgundy rose, 

A dangerous symptom is Burgundy rose, 

* ** Tis a very nice wine, and as mellow as milk, 

’Tis a very nice color, in satin or silk ; 

But you’ll change your opinion as soon as it shows 
In a halo around the extreme of your nose : 

Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose. 

Is a very bad thing at the tip of your toes.” 

“ Well, madame, how do you like it so far a^ we have 
got ? ” says the lieutenant, as Bell is extemporizing a some¬ 
what wild variation of the air. 

“ I think your young English friend gave you very good 
advice; and I have no doubt the students needed it very 
much ? ” 

“ But you shall hear what he says ; he was not a teeto¬ 
taller at all.” 


102 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


And therewith the lieutenant continued :— 

“If tipple you must in beer, spirits, or wine, 

There are wholesome vintages hail from the Ehine, 

And take the advice of a fellow who knows, 

Ilocheimer’s as gentle as any that goes— 

Burgundy rose. Burgundy rose, 

Doth never appear from the wine I propose. 

“Oh, Burgundy isn’t a good thing to drink. 

Young man, I beseech you, consider and think, 

Or else in your nose, and likewise in your toes. 

You’ll discover the color of Burgundy rose : 

Burgundy rose, Burgundy rose, 

A fatal allliction is Burgundy rose ! 

“ Oh, you two scapegraces ! ” cried Queen Titania. “ I 
know now why you were laying your heads together this 
morning, and poring over that sheet of paper; you were 
engaged in perverting an honest and well-intentioned song 
into a recommendation of German wines. I am sure that 
tliird verse is not in the original. 1 am certain the young 
English student never wrote it. It was written in Worces¬ 
ter this very morning; and I call on you to produce the 
original, so that we may cut out this very bad moral that 
has been introduced.” 

“ The original, madame? ” said the lieutenant, gravely. 
“ There is no original. I have repeated it most from 
memory, as he used to sing it at Bonn, and I put it down 
on paper only that mademoiselle might correct me about 
the words. No, I have put in no moral. You think your 
countryman did not like the Rhine wines? Pfui! you 
should have seen him drink them then, if he did not like 
them! And the very dear ones, too, for he had plenty of 
money; and we poor devils of the Germans used to be as¬ 
tonished at his extravagance and sometimes he was called 
‘ milord ’ for a joke. When he did go to his room to the 
supper-parties, we could not believe that any young man 
not come of age should have so much money given to him 
by his parents. But it did not spoil him one bit; he was 
as good, frank, careless, as any man, and when he did get to 
know the language bettter he worked hard, and had sucli 
notes of tlie lectures as not any one, I think, in the whole 
university had.” 

A strange thing now occurred. We were diving along 
level and wooded lanes, running parallel with the Seveni. 


OF A PHAETON’. 


163 


Tlic small hamlets we passed, merely two or three houses 
smothered in elms, are appropriately named greens—Fen 
Green, Dodd’s Green, Bard’s Green, and the like, and on 
either side of us were lush meadows, with the cattle stand¬ 
ing deep in the grass. Now all at once that long bar of 
glimmering yellow across the western clouds burst asunder, 
and at the same moment a glare of light shone along the 
southern sky, where there was evidently abundant rain. 
We had no sooner turned to look at this flood of golden 
mist, than all around us there was a stir in the hedges and 
the tall elms by the roadside—we were enveloped in sun¬ 
shine. With it came a quick pattering on the leaves; and 
then we found the air glittering with white drops and 
slanting streaks. In the wild glare of the sunlight the 
shower shone and sparkled around us, and the heavier it 
fell—until the sound of it was like the hissing of the sea on 
a pebbled beach—the more magical grew the effects of the 
mingled light and wot. Nor was it a passing shower merely. 
The air was still filled with the gleaming lines of the rain, 
the sunlight still shone mistily through it and lighted up, 
the green meadows and the trees with a wonderful radi¬ 
ance as we wrapped cloaks round our companions and 
drove leisurely on. It was impossible to think that this 
luminous rain could wet us like ordinary rain. But by and 
by it drew itself off; ^nd then Bell, with a sudden little 
cry, besought the lieutenant to pull up tJie horses. 

Had we driven under a cloud, and escaped at the other 
edge? Close behind us there was still mingled lain and 
sunlight, but beyond that again the sky was heaped up with 
immense dark-blue masses. A rainbow shone in front ol 
this black background. A puff of white cloud ran across 
the darkness, telling of contrary winds. And then when 
wc turned from this gleaming and glowing picture to con¬ 
tinue our course, lo ! all the west had cleared, and a great 
dim smoke of yellow lay over the land, where the sky came 
down. 

“ It is like the sea, is it not? ” said Bell, rising up in the 
phaeton and steadying herself to look into this distant world 
of gold. “Don’t you expect to find the masts of ships, and 
sea-birds flying about, out there ? ” 

And then, in the cool and fresh evening, with the dusk 
coming on, we drove up to the valley of the Severn, by 
Quat and Quatford, towards our resting-place for the night. 
As wo passed by (Quatford Castle, the river, lying amidst 


1G4 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


the dark meadows, had caught a glow of crimson fire from 
the last reflection of the sunset. A blue mist lay about the 
sides of the abrupt hill on Avhich the town of Bridgenorth 
is pitched ; but as we wound round the hill to gain the 
easiest ascent, we came again into the clear, metallic glow of 
the west. It was a hard pull on the horses, just at the end 
of their day’s work, was this steep and circuitous ascent; 
but at length we got into the rough streets of the old town, 
and in the fading twilight sought out the yellow and com¬ 
fortable glow of The Crown Hotel. 

We had got, in passing, a vague glimpse of a wide space 
around an old town-house, with a small crowd of people 
collecting. They had come to hear the })laying of a Volun¬ 
teer band. Therefore, as we sat down to dinner, we li.nd 
very good music being played to us from witliout; and 
when at last it was gone, and the quaint old town on the 
top of the hill left to its ordinary silence, we found it was 
time to light our cigars and open the bezique-box. 

Probably no one noticed it; but it is a curious circurn* 
stance that Bell had apparently forgotten all about her de¬ 
termination to write to Arthur. There was no shadow of 
a cloud on her face, and she enjoyed the winning of various 
games—assisted thereto by the obvious ministrations of the 
lieutenant—with as much delight and careless amusement 
as though there was not anywhere in the world a young 
man sitting in his solitary chamber and wishing that he had 
never been born. But it was certainly not hard-heartedness 
that gave to Bell the enjoyment of that one evening. 


OF A PHAETON-. 


165 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A SHREWSBURY PLAY. 

“ But (trust me, gentles !) never yet 
Was dight a inasquing half so neat, 

Or half so rich before. 

The country lent the sweet perfumes, 

The sea the pearl, the sky the plumes, 

The town its silken store.” 

The lieutenant was pensive. He and I had gone out 
for a turn before breakfast, and wandered on to the high 
promenade which, skirting one portion of the lofty town, 
looked down on the valley of the Severn, the huddled houses 
underneath the rocky height, and the bridge spanning the 
stream. It was a bright and cool morning; and the land¬ 
scape that lay around was shining in the sun. 

“ England,” he said, leaning his arms on the stone para- 
]iet of the walk, “ is a very pleasant country to live in, I 
think.” 

I thanked him for the compliment. 

“ You are very free in your actions here: you do what 
you please. Only consider how you are at this moment.” 

But 1 had to protest against our young Prussian friend 
continually regarding this excursion as the normal condi¬ 
tion of our existence. I showed him that we were not al¬ 
ways enjoying ourselves in this fashion ; that a good deal 
of hard work filled the long interval of the winter months ; 
and that even Bell—whom he had grown to regard as a 
sort of feature of English scenery, a wild bird forever on 
the wing through sunlight and green leaves—worked as 
hard as any of us. 

“ It is pleasant to be able to play dextrously on the 
piano, or the guitar, or what not, but that accomplishment 
means imprisonment with hard labor stretching over years. 
It is very nice to be able to put on a sheet of paper, with 
a few rapid touches, the outlines of a scene which delights 
^^ou, and to find yourself able to reproduce this afterward 
in water or oil, and have it publicly exhibited and sold ; 
but do you know how much work it involves? Bell is a 


166 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


most untiring young woman, I promise you, and not likely 
to fall asleep in counting her fingers.” 

“ Oh, I am sure of that,” he said, absently. “ She has 
too much spirit, too much life, to bo indolent. But I was 
thinking—I was thinking whether, if a man was to change 
his country, he would choose England out of all the other 
countries to live in. Here it is. Your people in England 
who only enjoy themselves must be very rich, must they 
not ? Is it a good country, I wonder, for a man who would 
have about eight hundred pounds a year ? ” 

“ Not with^out some occupation. But why do you ask ? ” 
He only stared at the bushes down below us on the rocks, 
and at the river far below them. 

“What would you say,” he asked, suddenly, “if I were 
to come and live in England, and become naturalized, and 
never go back to my native country again ? ” 

“And give up your profession, with all its interest and 
excitement? ” 

He was silent for a minute or two ; and then he said,—• 
“ I have done more than the service that is expected 
from every man in Prussia; and I do not think my country 
goes to war for many years to come. About the excite¬ 
ment of a campaign and the going into battle—well, there 
is much mistake about that. You are not always in enthu¬ 
siasm ; the long marches, the wet days, the waiting for 
months in one place—there is nothing heroic in that. And 
when you do come to the battle itself—Come, my dear 
friend, I will tell you something about that.” 

He seemed to wake up then. He rose from his recum¬ 
bent position and took a look round the shining country 
that lay along the valley of the Severn. 

“ All the morning before the battle,” said the lieutenant, 
“ you have great gloom; and it seems as if the day is dark 
overhead. But this is strange—that you think you can see 
very far, and you can see all your friends in Germany, and 
think you could almost speak to them. You expect to go 
forward to meet the enemy; and you hate him that he is 
waiting for you upon some of the hills or behind his in- 
trenchments. Then the hurry comes of getting on horse¬ 
back; and you are very friendly to all your companions ; 
and they are all very pleasant and laughing at this time, 
except one or two who are thinking* of their home. Youi 
regiment is ordered forward: you do not know what to 
think: perhaps you wish the enemy would run away, or 


OF A PHAETON, 


167 


that your regiment is not needed, and sometimes you have 
great wish of anger towards him; but all this is shifting, 
gloomy, uncertain, that you do not think two things one 
moment. Then you hear the sound of the firing, and your 
heart beats fast for a little while, and you think of all your 
friends in Germany; and this is the time that is the worst. 
You are angry with all the men who ])rovoke wars in their 
courts and parliaments ; and you think it is a shame you 
should be tliere to fight for them; and you look at the 
pleasant things you are leaving all behind in your own 
home, just as if you were never to see them any more. 
That is a very wretched and miserable time, but it does 
not last very long if you are ordered to advance ; and then, 
my dear friend, I can assure you that you do not care one 
farthing for your own life—that you forget your home alto¬ 
gether, and you think no more of your friends; you do 
not even hate the enemy in front any more—it is all a stir, 
and life, and eagerness ; and a warm, glad feeling runs all 
through your veins, and when the great ‘ hurrah’ comes, 
and you ride forward, you think no more of yourself ; you 
say to yourself, ‘ Here is for my good fatherland ! ’—and 
then—” 

A sort of sob stuck in the throat of the big lieutenant. 

“Bah,’’ said he, with a frown, as if the bright morning 
and the fresh air had done him an injury, “ what is the use 
of waiting out here, and killing ourselves with hunger ? ” 

Bell was writing when we went into the hotel. As wo 
entered, she hastily shut up her small portfolio. 

“Why not finish your letter, mademoiselle?” ho said, 
gently. “ It will be a little time before breakfast comes 
in.” 

“I can finish it afterwards,” said the girl, looking rather 
embarrassed. 

Of course, when the lieutenant perceived that the atten¬ 
tion thus drawn to the letter had caused her some confusion, 
he immediately rushed into another subject, and said to 
Queen Titania, with a fine affectation of carelessness. 

“ You will laugh, madame, at our having yet another 
adventure in a stationer’s shop.” 

“ I think,” said my lady, gravely, “ that I must put a 
stop to these wanderings about in the early morning. I 
cannot quite make out why you should always get up hours 
before anybody else; but 1 find that generally some story 
is revealed afterwards of a young lady. 


1G8 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ But there is no young lady this tiinc,’^ said the lieu¬ 
tenant, “but a very worthy man whom we^found in the 
stationer’s shop. And he has been at Sedan, and he has 
brought back the breech of a mitrailleuse and showed it all 
to us, and he has written a small book about his being in 
France, and did present us with a co})y of it, and would 
not take any payment for it. Oh, he is a very remarkable 
and intelligent man to be found in a stationer’s shop up in 
this curious old town on the top of a hill; but, then, I dis¬ 
covered he is a Scotchman, and do you not say here that a 
Scotchman is a great traveller, and is to be found every¬ 
where ? And I have looked into the little book, and I 
think it very sensible and good, and a true account of 
what he has seen.” 

“ Then I presume he extols your countrymen ? ” says my 
lady, with a smile. 

“Madame,” replies the lieutenant, “ I may assure you 
of this, that a man who has been in a campaign and seen 
both the armies does not think either army an army of 
angels and the other an army of demons. To believe one 
nation to have all the good, and another nation to have all 
the bad, that can only be believed by people Avho have seen 
none of them. I think my friend the stationer has written 
so much of what he saw, that he had no time for stupid 
imaginations about the character of two whole countries.” 

At this moment the introduction of breakfast broke our 
talk in this direction. After breakfast Bell finished her 
letter. She asked the lieutenant to get it stamped and 
posted for her, and handed it openly to him. But, without 
looking at it, he must have known that it was addressed to 
“ Arthur Ashburton, Esq., Essex Court, Temple.” 

“ Well,” said Bell, coming downstairs with her hat on, 
“ let us go out now and see the town. It must be a very 
pleasant old place. And the day is so fine—don’t you 
think we have had quite exceptional weather hitherto, 
Count Von Rosen?” 

Of course, he said the weather had been lovely; but 
how was it that Bell was so sure beforehand that she would 
be pleased with Bridgenorth ? The delight was already in 
h«r face and beaming in her eyes. She knew the weather 
must be fine. She was certain we should have a delicious 
drive during the day, and was positive the country through 
which we had to pass would be charming. The observant 
reader will remark tha* a certain letter had been po8to<l. 


OF A PHAETON, 


1G9 


Really, Bridgenorth was pleasant enough on this bright 
morning, albeit the streets on the river-side part of the 
town were distinctly narrow, dirty, and smoky. First of 
all, however, we visited the crumbling walls of Robert de 
Belesme’s mighty tower. Then we took the women round 
the high promenade over the valley. Then we went down 
through a curious and precipitous passage hewed out of the 
sandstone hills to the lower part of the town, and visited 
the old building in which Bishop Percy was born, the in¬ 
scription* on which, by the way, is a standing testimony to 
the playful manner in which this nation has from time im¬ 
memorial dealt with its aspirates. Tiicn we clambered up 
the steep streets again until we reached the great central 
square, with its quaint town-house and old-fashioned shops. 
A few minutes thereafter we were in the phaeton, and 
Castor and Pollux taking us into the open country again. 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” said the lieutenant—the young man 
was like a mavis, with this desire of his to sing or hear 
singing just after his morning meal—“ you have not sung 
to us anything for a long while now.” 

“ But I will this morning with great pleasure,” said Bell. 

“ Then,” said Von Rosen, “ here is your guitar When 
I saw you come down to go out this morning, I said to my¬ 
self,‘^lademoiselle is sure to sing to-day.’ So I kept out 
the guitar-case.” 

The horses pricked up their ears. The chords of the 
guitar twanged out a few notes. The fresh breeze blew by 
from the fields; and as we drove through the stillness of 
one or two straggling woods, Bell sung,-- 

“ If enemies oppose us, 

And England is al war 
With any foreign nation, 

We fear not wound nor scar I 
To humble them, come on, lads 1 
Their flags we’ll soon lay low ; 

Clear the way, for the fray ; 

Though the stormy winds do blow I ” 

• Tlie Inscription inside the door of this old-fashioned building, 
which is ornamented by bars of black and white, and peaked gables, 
is as follows ; 

Except the Lord bvild the owsb 
The Laborers thereof avail nothing 
Erected by R For* 1580.” 



170 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Mademoiselle,” cries the lieutenant, “ it is a chal¬ 
lenge.” 

Bell laughed, and suddenly altered the key. 

“ Fair Hebo I left with a cautious design ** 

—this was what she sung now— 

“ To escape from her charms and to drown love in wine ; 

I tried it, but found, when I came to depart, 

The wine in my head, but still love in my heart.” 

“Well! ” said Tita, with an air of astonishment, that 
is a pretty song for a young lady to sing I ” 

Bell laid down the guitar. 

“ And what,” I ask of Qneen Titania, “ are the senti¬ 
ments of which alone a young lady may sing? Not patriot¬ 
ism? Not love? Not despair? Goodness gracious? 
Don’t you remember what old Joe Blatchers said when he 
brought us word that some woman in his neighborhood 
had committed suicide ? ” 

“ What did he say ? ” asked the lieutenant, with a great 
curiosity. 

“ The wretched woman had drowned herself because 
her husband had died; and old Joe brought us the story 
Avith the serious remark, ‘ The ladies'*as their feelins, ^asii't 
they^ sir^ arter all f ** Mayn’t a young lady sing of any¬ 
thing but the joy of decorating a church on Christmas- 
eve ? ” 

“ I have never been taught to perceive the humor of 
profanity,” says my lady, with a serene impassivencss. 

“ Curious, if true. 1‘erhaps you were never taught that 
a Avhite elephant isn’t the same as a rainbow or a j»ack of 
cards ? ” 

“ My dear,” says Tita, turning to Bell, “ what is that 
French song that you brought over with you from Die])pe ? ” 

Thus appealed to, Bell took uj) her guitar, and sung for 
us a very ])retty song. It was not exactly French, to bo 
sure. It began,— 

“ ’Twas frost and thro’ Icet, wid a groyming o’ snaw, 

^Vllen I went to see Biddy, the floAv’r o’ them aw ; 

^ To meet was agreed on a Soy my’ deyke nuik, 

■\Vliere I sauntered wi’ mony a seegh and lang luik. 

But good honest Cumbrian is quite as foreign to most of 


OF A PHAETON. 


171 


ns as French ; and no exception could be taken to the senti- 
nient of Fell’s ballad, for none of us could understand six 
consecutive Avords of it. 

Miich-Wenlock is a quiet town. It is about as quiet as 
the spacious and grassy enclosure in Avhich the magnificent 
ruins of its old monastery stand gray and black in tlie sun¬ 
shine. There are many strange ])assages and courts in 
these noble ruins; and as you wander through broken 
arches, and over courtyards half hidden in the long green 
grass, it is but natural that a preference for solitude should 
betray itself in one or other of the members of a noisy 
little party. We lost sight of Fell and the lieutenant. 
There was a peacock strutting through the grass, and mak¬ 
ing his res])lendent tail gleam in the sunshine; and they 
followed him, I think. When we came upon them again, 
Fell was seated on a bit of tumbled pillar, })ulling daisies 
out of the sward and plaiting them ; and the lieutenant 
was standing by her side, talking to her in a low voice. It 
Avas no business of ours to interfere Avith this pastoral oc¬ 
cupation. Doubtless he spoke in these Ioav tones because 
of the great silence of the place. We left them there, and 
had another saunter before we returned. We wore al¬ 
most sorry to disturb them ; for they made a pretty grouj>, 
these two young folks, talking leisurely to each other under 
the solemn magnificence of the great gray ruins, Avhile the 
sunlight that lighted up the ivy on the Avails, and thrCAV 
black shadows under the arches of the crumbling windoAvs, 
and lay Avarin on the long grass around them, touched 
Fell’s cheek too, and glimmered doAAm one side of the loose 
and splendid masses of her hair. 

Castor and Pollux Avere not allowed much time for 
lunch; for, as the young people had determined to go to 
the theatre on reaching Shrewsbury, their elders, Avarned 
by a long experience, kncAv that the best preparation for 
going to a country theatre is to dine before setting out. 
Sly lady did not anticipate much enjoyment; but Fell Avas 
positive we should be surprised. 

“ We have been out in the country so much—seeing so 
much of the sunlight and the green trees, and living at those 
little inns—that Ave ought to have a country theatre as well. 
AVho knows but that Ave may have left all our London ideas 
of a play in London; and find ourselves quite deliglited 
with the simple folk avIio are ahvays uttering good sentiments 


172 


THE STRANGE AT^VENTURES 


aiul quite enraged with the bad man wlio is wishing them ill. 
I think CountVoii Rosen was quite ri"ht—” 

Of course Count Yon Rosen was quite right I 
“—about commonplace things only having become com¬ 
monplace through our familiarity with them,” continued 
Miss Bell. “ Perhaps we may find ourselves going back a 
bit, and being as much impressed by a country drama as 
any of the farmer-folk w^ho do not see half a dozen plays in 
their life. And then, you know, what a big background we 
shall have !—not the walls of the little theatre but all the 
great landscape we have been coming through. Round 
about us we shall see the Severn, and the long woods, and 
Broadway Hill—” 

“ And not forgetting Bourton Hill,” says the lieutenant. 
“ If only they do give us a good moonlight scene like that, 
we shall be satisfied.” 

“ Oh no ! ” said Bell, gravely—she was evidently launch¬ 
ing into one of her unconscious flights, for her eyes took no 
more notice of us, but were looking wistfully at the pleasant 
country around us—“ that is asking far too much. It is 
easier for you to make the moonlight scene than for the 
manager. You have only to imagine it is there—shut your 
eyes a little bit, and fancy you hear the people on the stage 
talking in a real scene, with the real country around, and 
the real moonlight in the air. And then you grow to be¬ 
lieve in the people ; and you forget that they are only actors 
and actresses working for their salaries, and you think it is 
a true story, like the stories they tell up in \Yestmoreland 
of things that have happened in the villages years ago. 
That is one of the great pleasures of driving, is it not ‘f— 
that it gives you a sense of wide space. There is a great 
deal of air and sky about it; and you have a pleasant and 
easy way of getting through it, as if you were really sailing ; 
whereas the railway whisks you through the long intervals, 
and makes your journey a succession of dots. That is an 
unnatural way of travelling, that staccato method of—” 
Here mademoiselle caught sight of Queen Tita gravely 
smiling, and immediately paused to find out what she had 
been saying. 

“ Well ? ” she said, expecting to be corrected or reproved, 
and calmly resolved to bear the worst. 

But how could Tita explain ? She Iiad been amused by 
the manner in which the young lady had unconsciously 
caught up a trick of the lieutenant’s in the construction of 


OF A PHAETON. 


173 


his sentences—the use of “ that” as the introductory nomi¬ 
native, the noun coming in afterward. For the moment the 
subject dropped, in the excitement of our getting once more 
back to the Severn ; and when Cell spoke next, it was to 
ask the lieutenant whether the Wrekin—a solitary, abrupt, 
and conical hill on our right, which was densely wooded to 
the top—did not a milder form reproduce the odd masses 
ol rock that stud the great plain west of the Lake of Con> 
stance. 

A pleasant drive through a fine stretch of open country 
took us into Shrewsbury; and here, having got over the 
bridge and up the steep thoroughfares to our hotel, dinner 
was immediately ordered. When at length we made our 
way round to the theatre, it was about half-past seven, and 
the performance was to commence at twenty minutes to 
eiglit. 

“ Oh, Cell! ” says my lady, as we enter the building. 
She looks blankly round. From the front of the dress- 
oircle we are peering into a great hollow place, dimly lighted 
by ten lamps, each of one burner, that throw a sepulchral 
light on long rows of wooden benches, on a sad-colored cur¬ 
tain, and an empty orchestra. How is all the force of Bell’s 
imagination to drive off these walls and this depressing ar¬ 
ray of carpentry, and substitute for them a stage of green¬ 
sward and walls composed of the illimitable sky? There is 
an odor of escaped gas, and of oranges ; but when did any 
])eople ever muster up enough of gayety to eat an orange in 
this gloomy hall ? 

7.30, by Shrewsbury clock.—An old gentleman and a 
boy appear in the orchestra. The former is possessed of a 
bass-viol; the latter proceeds to tune up a violin. 

7.40 (which is the time for commencing the play).— 
Three ladies come into the pit. The first is a farmer’s wife, 
fat, ostentatious, happy in a black silk that rustles ; the two 
others are apparently friends of hers in the town, who fol¬ 
low her meeky, and take their seats with a frightened air. 
She sits down with a proud gesture ; and this causes a thin 
crackle of laughter and a rude remark far up in the semi¬ 
darkness over head, so that we gather that there are prob¬ 
ably two persons in the upper gallery. 

7.45.—Two young ladies—perhaps shop-girls, but their 
extreme blushing gives them a countrified look—come into 
the pit, talk in excited whispers to each other, and sit down 
with an uncomfortable air of embarrassment. At this mo- 


174 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


merit the orchestra startles us by dashing into a waltz from 
“Faust.” There arc now five men and a boy in this tune¬ 
ful choir. One of them starts vigoi'ously on the cornet; 
but invariably fails to get beyond the fii’st few notes, so 
that tlie tlute beats him hollow. Again and I'gain the coi-- 
net strikes in at the easy parts; but directly he subsides 
again, and the flute has it all his own way. The music 
ceases. The curtain is drawn up. The play has begun. 

The first act is introductory. Thei’o is a farmer, Mdioso 
chief business it is to announce that “ Ids will is law ; ” and 
he has a son, addressed throughout as Wcelyam, whom he 
wishes to inaiTy a particular girl. The son, of coui’se, has 
married another. The villain appears, and takes us into 
his confidence ; giving us to understand that a worse villain 
never trod the earth. He has an interview with the farmer; 
but this is suddenly broken off—a whistle in some part of 
the theatre is heard, and we are conveyed to an Italian lake, 
all shining with yellow villas and blue skies. 

“ That is the problem stated,” said the lieutenant; “ now 
we shall have the solution. But do you find the walls go¬ 
ing away yet, mademoiselle ? ” 

“I think it is very amusing,” said Bell, with a bright 
look on her face. Indeed, if she had not brought in with 
her sufiicient influence from the country to resolve the 
theatre into thin air, she had imbibed a vast quantity of 
good health and spirits there, so that she was prepared to 
enjoy anything. 

The })lot thickens. The woman-villain appears—a lady 
dressed in deep black, who tells us in an awful voice that 
she was the mistress of Weelyam in France, that being the 
country naturally associated in the mind of the dramatist 
with crimes of this character. She is in a pretty state 
when she learns that Weelyam is married, and events are 
plainly marching on to a crisis. It comes. The marriage 
is revealed to the farmer, who delivers a telling curse, which 
is apparently launched at the upper gallery, but which is 
really meant to confound Weelyam ; then the old man falls 
—there is a tableau—the curtain comes down, and the band, 
by some odd stroke of luck, plays “ Home, sweet homo,’* 
as an air descriptive of Weelyam’s banishment. 

We become objects of curiosity, now that the adven¬ 
tures of the farmer’s son are removed. There are twenty- 
one people in the pit—representing conjointly a solid guinea 
transferred to the treasury. One or two gay young men 


OF A PHAETON. 


175 


with canes, and their hats much on the side of their heads, 
have entered the dress-circle, stared for a minute or two at 
the stage, and retired. 

They are probably familiar with rustic drama, and hold 
it in contempt. A good ballet, now, would be more in 
their way, performed by a troupe of young ladies whose 
names are curiously like English names, with imposing 
French and Italian terminations. A gentleman comes into 
the pit along with a friend, nods familiarly to the attend¬ 
ant, deposits his friend, utters a few facetious remarks, and 
leaves. Can it be that he is a reporter of a local newspaper, 
dowered with the privilege of free admission for “ himself 
and one ? ” There must at least be three persons in the 
upper gallery, for a new voice is heard, calling out the grace¬ 
ful but not unfamiliar name of “ Polly.” One of the two 
rose-red maidens in front of us timidly looks up, and is 
greeted with a shout of recognition and laughter. She 
drops into her old position in a second, and hangs down her 
head while her companion protests in an indignant way in 
order to comfort her. The curtain rises. 

The amount of villainy in this Shrewsbury drama is 
really getting beyond a joke. We are gradually rising in 
the scale of dark deeds, until the third villain, who now 
appears, causes the other two to be regarded as innocent 
lambs. This new performer of crime is a liighwayman ; 
and his very first act is to shoot Weelyam’s father and rob 
him of his money. But lo ! the French adventuress drops 
from the clouds ; the highwayman is her husband ; she tells 
him of her awful deeds, among them of her having mur¬ 
dered “her mistress the archduchess;” and then, as she 
vows she will go and murder Weelyam, a tremendous con¬ 
flict of everybody ensues, and a new scene being run on, 
we are suddenly whirled up to Balmoral Castle. 

“ I am beginning to be very anxious about the good peo¬ 
ple,” remarked Tita. “ I am afraid William will be killed.” 

“ Unless he has as many lives as Plutarch, he can’t es¬ 
cape,” said Bell. 

“As for the old farmer,” observed the lieutenant, “he 
survives apoplectic fits and pistol-shots very well—oh, very 
well indeed. He is a very good man in a play. He is 
sure to last to the end.” 

Well, we were near the end; and author, carpenter, and 
scene-painter had done their dead best to render the final 
scene impressive. It was in a cavern. Cimmerian dark- 


176 


THE STRAXGE ADVENTURES 


ness prevailed. Tlie awful lady in black haunts the 
gloomy by-ways of the rocks, communing with herself and 
twisting her arms so that the greatest agony is made visible. 
But what is this hooded and trembling figure that 
approaches ? Once in the cavern, the hood is thrown off, 
and the palpitating heroine comes forward for a second to 
the low foot-lights, merely that there shall be no mistake 
about her identity. The gloom deepens. The young and 
innocent wife encounters the French adventuress; the 
woman who did not scruple to murder her mistress the 
archduchess seizes the girl by her hands—shrieks are 
heard—the two figure twist round one anotlier—then a 
mocking shout of laughter, and Weelyara's wife is precipi¬ 
tated into the hideous waters of the lake! But lo! the 
tread of innumerable feet; from all quarters of the habita¬ 
ble globe stray wanderers arrive ; with a shout Weelyam 
leaps into the lake, and when it is discovered that he has 
saved his wife, behold ! everybody in the play is found to 
be around him, and with weeping and with laughter all the 
story is told, and the drama ends in the most triumphant 
and comfortable manner, in the middle of the night, in a 
cavern, a hundred miles from anywhere. 

“No,” said Queen Titania, distinctly, “I will not stay 
to see ‘ La Champagne Ballet or the Pas de Fascination. ’ ” 

So there was nothing for it but to take the ungrateful 
creature back to the hotel, and give her tea and a novel. 
As for the billiard-room in that hotel, it is one of the best 
between Holborn and the Canongate. The lieutenant begs 
to add that he can recommend the beer. 


CHAPTER XV. 

‘ LA PATEIB EN DANGER.” 

“ Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres, 

I find a magic bark ; 

I leap on board : no helmsman steers ; 

I float till all is dark. ” 

I SIT down to write this chapter with a determination 
to be generous, calm, and modest in the last degree. The 
man who would triumph over the wife of his bosom merely 
to have the pleasure of saying “ I told you so,” does not 



OF A PHAETON. 


177 


deserve to have his path through life sweetened by any 
such tender companionship. Far be it from me to recall 
the earnest protestations which my lady affixed to the first 
portion of this narrative. Not for worlds would I inquire 
into her motives for being so anxious to see x\rthur go. 
The ways of a woman ought to be intricate, occult, per¬ 
plexing, if only to preserve something of the mystery of life 
around her, and to serve her, also, as a refuge from the 
coarse and rude logic of the actual world. The foolish 
person, who, to prove himself right, would drive his wife 
into a corner and demonstrate to her that she was wrong ; 
that she had been guilty of small ])revarications, of trifling 
bits of hypocrisy, and of the use of various arts to conceal 
her real belief and definite purpose—the man who would 
thus wound the gentle spirit by his side to secure the petty 
gratification of proving himself to have been something of 
a twopenny-halfpenny prophet— But these remarks are 
premature at the present moment, and I go on to narrate 
the events which happened on the day of our leaving 
Shrewsbury, and getting into the solitary region of the 
meres. 

“1 have received a telegram from Arthur,” says Bell, 
calmly ; and the j>ink sheet is lying on the breakfast table 
before her. 

‘‘How did you get it?” says my lady, with some sur¬ 
prise. 

“ At the post-office.” 

“ Then you have been out ? ” 

“ Yes, we went for a short walk, after having waited 
for you,” says Bell, looking down. 

“Oh, rnadame,” says the lieutenant, coming forward 
from the firej)lace, “ you must not go away from the town 
without seeing it well. It is handsome, and the tall poplars 
down by the side of the river, they are Avorth going to see 
by themselves.” 

“It was very pretty this morning,” continued Bell, 
“ when the wind was blowing about the light-blue smoke, 
and the sun was shining doAvn on the slates and the clumps of 
trees. We went to a height on the other side of the river, 
and I have made a sketch of it—” 

“ Pray,” says my lady, regarding our ward severely, 
when did you go out this morning ? ” 

“ Perhaps about an hour and a half ago,” replies Bell, 
carelessly; “ I don’t exactly know.” 


178 


THE STRAHGE ADVENTURES 


“ More than that, I think,” says the lieutenant, “ for 1 
did smoke two cigars before we came back. It is much to 
our credit to get up so early, and not anything to be blamed 
of.” 

“ I am glad Bell is improving in that respect,” retorts 
my lady, with a wicked smile ; and then she adds, “ Well ? ” 

“ lie has started,” is the reply to that question. 

“ And is going by another route ? ” 

“Yes : in a dog-cart—by himself. Don’t you think it is 
very foolish of him Tita? You know what accidents occur 
with those dog-carts.” 

“ Mademoiselle, do not alarm yourself,” says the lieu¬ 
tenant, folding up his newspaper. “ It is quite true what 
madame said yesterday, that there are so many accidents in 
driving, and so very seldom any one hurt. You ask your 
friends—yes, they have all had accidents in their riding and 
driving; they have all been in great danger, but what tiave 
they suffered? Nothing! Sometimes a man is killed—yes, 
one out of several millions in the year. And if he tumbles 
over—which is likely if he does not know much of horses 
and driving—what then ? No, there is no fear ; we shall 
see him some day very well, and go on all together! ” 

“ Oil, shall we ? ” says my lady, evidently regarding this 
as a new idea. 

“ Certainly. Do you think he goes that way always ? 
Impossible. He will tire of it. He will study the roads 
across to meet us. He will overtake us with his light little 
dog-cart. We shall have his company along the road.” 

Tita did not at all look so well satisfied with this pros¬ 
pect of meeting an old friend as she might have done. 

“ And when are you to hear from him next ? ” I inquire 
of mademoiselle. 

“ He will either write or telegraph to each of the big 
towns along our route, on the chance of the message inter¬ 
cepting us somewhere ; and so we shall know where he is.” 

“ And he has really started ? ” 

Bell placed the telegram in my hands. It was as fol¬ 
lows:— 

“ Have set out hy Hatfield^ Huntingdon^ and Yorh^ for 
Edinburgh. Shall follow the real old coach-road to Scot¬ 
land^ and am certain to find much entertainment'^ 

“ For man and beast,” struck in the lieutenant. “ And 
I know of a friend of mine travelling in your country who 
went into one of these small inns, and put up his horse, and 


OF A PHAETOX, 


179 


when they bronght him in his luncheon to the parlor, he 
only looked at it and said, ‘ Very good, waiter ; this is 
very nice / but ichere is the entertainment for the man f ” 
I continued to read the telegram aloud : 

“ Shall probably be in Edinburgh before you ; but will 
telegraph or lorite to each big town along your route, that 
you may let me knoio where you are” 

“It is very obliging,” says the lieutenant, with a shrug 
of his shoulders. 

“ It is quite certain,” observes my lady, with decision, 
“ that he must not accompany us in his dog-cart; for we 
shall arrive at plenty of inns where they could not possibly 
put up three horses and so many people.” 

“It would have been so,” said the lieutenant, “at the 
place on the top of the hill—Bourton was it called, yes ? ” 
Tlie mere notion of Arthur coming in to sj)oil the enjoy¬ 
ment of that rare evening was so distressing that we all 
took refuge in breakfast after which we went for a long and 
leisurely stroll through Shrewsbury; and then had Castor 
and Pollux put into the phaeton. It seemed now to us to 
matter little at what town we stayed. We had almost 
begun to forget the various points of the journey. It was 
enough that some hospitable place—whether it Avere city, 
town, or liamlet—afforded us shelter for the night, that on 
the next morning we couhl issue forth again into the sweet 
smelling country air, and have all the fair green world 
to ourselves. We looked Avith a lenient eye upon the groat 
habitations of men. What if a trifle of coal smoko hung 
about the house-tops, and that the streets Avere not quite 
so clean as they might be? Wo suffered little from these 
inconveniences. They only made us rejoice the more to 
get out into the leafy lanes, where the air Avas fresh Avith the 
scent of the beanfields and the half dried hay. And Avheii 
a town happened to bo picturesque—and it was our good 
fortune to find a considerable number of handsome cities 
along our line of route—and combined Avith its steep streets, 
its old-fashioned houses, and its Avinding river and banks, a 
fair proportion of elms and poplars scattered about in clumps 
to mar the monotony of the gray fronts and the blue slates, 
we paid such a tribute of admiration as could only be ob¬ 
tained from people who knew they Avould soon be emanci¬ 
pated from the din and clamor, the odor and the squalor, 
of throughfares and pavements. 

Bell sitting very erect, and holding the whip and reins 


180 


'J'HE STRANGE AT>FENT(/RES 


in the most accurate and scientific fasliion, was driving us 
leisurely up the level and pleasant road leading from Shrews- 
husy to Ellesmere. The country was now more open and 
less hilly than that through which we had recently come. 
Occasionally, as in the neighborhood of Harmer Hill, we 
drove by long woods ; but for the most part our route lay 
between spacious meadows, fields, and farms, with the 
horizon around lying blue and dark under the distant sky. 
The morning had gradually become overcast, and the va¬ 
rious greens of the landscape were darkened by the placid 
gray overhead. There was little wind, but a prevailing 
coolness that seemed to have something of premonitory 
moistness in it. 

But how the birds sung under the silence of that cold 
gray sky ! We seemed to hear all the sounds within a groat 
compass, and these were exclusively the innumerable notes 
of various warblers—in the hedges, and in the roadside trees, 
far away in woods or hidden up in the level grayness of the 
clouds : Teioi, tewi^ trrrr-weet! — droom^ droom^ pJdoee !—- 
iuck^ tueJe^ tueJe^ tueJe^feer !—that was the silvery chorus from 
thousands of throats, and, under the darkness of the gray 
sky, the leaves of the trees and the woods seemed to hang 
motoionless in order to listen. Nowand then Boll })icked 
out the call of a thrush or a blackbird from the almost in¬ 
distinguishable mass of melody; but it seemed to us that all 
the fields and hedges had but one voice, and that it was clear 
and sweet and piercing, in the strange silence reigning over 
the land. 

So we rolled along the unfrequented road, occasionally 
passing a wayside tavern, a farmhouse, or a cluster of cot¬ 
tages, until about noon we caught a glimpse of a stretch of 
gray water. On this lonely mere no boat was to be seen, 
nor any house on its banks, merely a bit of leaden-colored 
Avater placed amidst the soft and loAv-lying woods. Then we 
caught the glimmer of another sheet of cold gray, and by- 
and by, driving under and through an avenue of trees, Ave 
came full in sight of Ellesmere. 

The small lake looked rather dismal just than. There 
was a slight stirring of Avind on its surface, which destroyed 
the reflection of the Avoods along its shores, so that the Avater 
was pretty much the counterpart of the gloomy sky above. 
At this moment, too, the moisture in the air began to 
touch our faces, and everything portended a shower. Bell 
drove us past the mere and on to the small village, where 


OF A F/IAETOiV. 


181 


Castor and Pollux were safely lodged in the stables of 
The Bridgewater Anus. 

We had got into shelter just in time. Down came the 
rain with a will; but we were unconcernedly having 
luncheon in a long apartment which the landlord had recent¬ 
ly added on to his premises. Then we darted across the 
yard to the billiard-room, wliere, Bell and my lady having 
taken up lofty positions in order to overlook the tournament, 
we proceeded to knock the balls about until the shower 
should cease. 

The rain, however, showed no symptoms of leaving off, 
so we resolved to remain at Ellesmere that night, and the 
rest of the afternoon was spent in getting np arrears of cor¬ 
respondence and similar work. It was not until after dinner 
that it was found the rain clouds had finally gathered them¬ 
selves together, and then, when we went out for a stroll, in 
obedience to Bell’s earnest prayer, the evening had drawn 
on apace. 

The darkening waters of the lake were now surrounded 
by low clouds of white mist, that hung about the still and 
Avet Avoods. From the surface of the mere, too, a faint 
A'apor seemed to rise, so that the shores on the other side had 
grown dim and vague. The trees Avere still dropping large 
drops into the plashing road ; runnels of Avater shoAved how 
heavy the rain had been ; and it seemed as if the gray and 
ghostly plain of the lake were still stirred by the commotion 
of the showers. The reflection of a small yacht out from 
the shore Avas blurred and indistinct; and underneath the 
Avooded island beyond there only reigned a deeper gloom 
on the mere. 

Of course, no reasonable person could have thought of 
going out in a boat on this damp evening; but Bell having 
expressed some Avish of the kind, the lieutenant forthwith 
declared we should soon have a boat, however late the 
hour. He dragged us through a AA^et garden to a house set 
amidst trees by the side of the lake. He summoned a 
Avorthy Avoman, and overcame her Avonder and objections 
and remonstrances in about a couple of minutes. In a very 
short space of time AV'e found ourselves in a massive and 
unAvieldy punt, out in the middle of the gray sheet of Avater, 
with the chill darkness of night rapidly descending. 

“ We shall allhaA'e neuralgia, and rheumatism, and colds 
tomorrow,” said my lady, contentedly. “ And all because 


182 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


of tills mad girl, who thinks she can see ghosts wherever 
there is a little mist. Bell, do you remember—” 

Tita stopped suddenly, and grasped my arm. A white 
something had suddenly borne down upon us, and not for 
a second or two did we recognize the fact that it was 
merely'’ a swan, bent on a mission of curiosity. Far away 
beyond the solitary' animal there now became visible a faint 
line of white, and we knew that there the members of his 
tribe were awaiting his report. 

The two long oars plashed in the silence, we glided on¬ 
ward through the cold mists, and the woods of the opposite 
shore were now coming near. How long we floated thus, 
through the gloomy vapors of the lake, I cannot tell. We 
were bent on no particular mission; and somehow the ex¬ 
treme silence was grateful to us. But what was this new 
light that was seen to bo stealing up behind the trees, a 
faint glow that began to tell upon the sky', and reveal to us 
the conformation of the clouds? The mists of the lake 
deepened, but the sky lightened, and we could see breaks" 
in it, long stripes of a soft and pale yellow. The faint suf¬ 
fusion of yellow light seemed to lend a little warmth to the 
damp and chill atmosphere. Bell had not uttered a word. 
She had been watching this growing light with patient 
eyes, only turning at times to see how the island was becom¬ 
ing more distinct in the darkness. And then more and 
more rapidly the radiance spread up and over the south¬ 
east, the clouds got thinner and thinner, until all at once we 
saw the white glimmer of the disk of the moon leap into a 
long crevice in the dark sky. And lo ! all the scene around 
us was changed; the mists were gradually dispersed and 
driven to the shores; the trees on the island became sharp 
black bars against a flood of light; and on the dark bosom 
of the water lay a long lane of silver, intertwisting itself 
witli millions of gleaming lines, and flashing on the ripjdes 
that went quivering back from the hull of our boat. Wo 
were floating on an enchanted lake, set far away amidst 
these solitary woods. 

“Every day, I think,” said Bell, “ we come to something 
more beautiful in this journey.*’ 

“ Mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant, suddenly, “ your 
country it has been too much for me. I have resolved to 
come to live here alwasy ; and in five y'oars, if I choose it, 
I shall be able to be naturalized, and consider England as 
my own country.” 


OF A PHAETON. 


183 


The moonlight was touching softly at this moment the 
outlines of Bell’s face, but the rest of the face was in 
shadow, and we could not see what evidence of surprise was 
written there. 

“ You are not serious she said. 

“ I am.” 

“ And you mean to give up your country because you 
like the scenery of another country ? ” 

That, plainly put, was what the proposal of the count 
amounted to, as he had expressed it; but even he seemed 
somewhat taken aback by its apparent absurdity. 

“No,” he said, “You must not put it all down to one 
reason : there are many reasons, some of them important; 
but, at all events, it is sure that if I come to live in England, 
I shall not be disappointed of liaving much pleasure in 
travelling.” 

“ With you it may be different,” said Bell, almost re¬ 
peating what I had said the day before to the young man. 
“I wish we could always be travelling and meeting with 
such pleasant scenes as this. But this holiday is a very 
exceptional thing.” 

“ So much the worse,” said the lieutenant, with the air 
of a man who thinks he is being liardly used by destiny. 

“But tell me,” broke in my lady, as the boat lay in the 
path of the moonlight, almost motionless, “ have you calcu¬ 
lated the consequences of your becoming an exile?” 

“ An exile ! There are many thousands of my country¬ 
men in England ; they do not seem to suffer much of regret 
because they are exiles.” 

“ Suppose we were to go to war with Germany! ” 

“Madame,”observed the lieutenant, seriously, “if you 
regard one possibility, why not another ? Should I not hesi¬ 
tate of living in England for fear of a comet striking your 
country rather than Germany? No : I do not think there is 
any chance of either; but if there is a war, then I consider 
whether I am more bound to Germany or to England. And 
that is a question of the ties you may form, which may be 
moro strong than merely that you chance to have been 
born in a particular place.” 

“These are not patriotic sentiments,”remarks my lady, 
in a voice which shows she is pleased as well as amused by 
the announcement of them. 

“ Patriotism ! ” he said, “ that is very good—but ^-ou 
need not make it a fetich. Perhaps 1 have mere riglii 


184 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


to be patriotic in a country tliat I choose for my own than 
in a country where I am born without any choice of my own. 
But I do not find my countrymen, when they come to En¬ 
gland, much troubled by such things: and 1 do not think 
your countrymen, when they go to America, consult the 
philosophers, and say what they would do in war If 
you will allow me to differ with you, rnadame, I do not 
think that is a great objection to my living in England.” 

An objection—coming from her! The honest lieutenant 
meant no sarcasm; but if a flush remained in my lady’s 
system—which is pretty well trained, I admit, to repress 
such symptoms of consciousness—surely it ought to have 
been visible on this clear moonlight night. 

At length we had to make for the shore. It seemed as 
though we were leaving out there on the water all the white 
wonder of the moon; but when he had run the boat into 
the boat-house and got up among the trees, there too was 
the strong white light, gleaming on black branches, and 
throwing bars of shadow across the pale-brown road. We 
started on our way back to the village by the margin of 
the mere. The mists seemed colder here than out on the 
water ; and now we could see the moonlight struggling witli 
a faint white haze that lay over all the surface of the lake. 
My lady and Bell walked on in front; the lieutenant was 
apparently desirous to linger a little behind. 

“ You know,” he said, in a low voice, and with a little 
embarrassment, “ why I have resolved to live in England.” 

“ I can guess.” 

“ I mean to ask mademoiselle to-morrow—if I have 
the chance—if she will become my wife.” 

“ You will be a fool for your pains.” 

“ What is that phrase? I do not comprehend it,” he said. 

“ You will make a mistake if you do. She will refuse 
you.” 

“ And well ? ” he said. “ Does not every man run the 
chance of tliat ? I will not blame her—no ; but it is better 
I should ask her, and be assured of this way or the other.” 

“You do not understand. Apart from all other consid¬ 
erations, Bell would almost certainly object to entertaining 
such a proposal after a few days’ acquaintanceship—” 

“ A few days ! ” he exclaimed. “ Du Ilimmel! I have 
known her years and years ago—very well we were ac¬ 
quainted—” 


OF A PHAETON. 385 

“But the acquaintanceship of a boy is nothing. You 
are almost a stranger to her now.” 

“See here,” he urged. “We do know more of each 
other in this week or two than if I liad seen her for many 
seasons of your London society. We have seen each other 
at all times—under all ways—not mere talking in a dance, 
or so forth.” 

“ But you know she has not definitely broken off witli 
Artluir yet.” 

“ Then the sooner the better,” said the lieutenant, blunt¬ 
ly. “ How is it you do all fear him, and the annoyance of his 
coming? Isa young lady likely to have much sympathy 
for him, when he is very disagreeable, and rude, and angry ? 
Now, this is what I think about him: I am afraid ma¬ 
demoiselle is very sorry to tell him to go away. They are 
old friends. But slie would like him to go away, for lie is 
very jealous, and angry, and rude; and so I go to her, and 
say—no, I will not tell you what my argument is, but I hope 
I will show mademoiselle it will be better if she will 
promise to be my wife, and then this pitiful fellow he will 
be told not to distress her any more. If she says no—it is 
a misfortune for me, but none to her. If she says yes, then 
I will look out that she is not any more annoyed—that is 
quite certain.” 

“ I hope you don’t wish to marry merely to rescue a 
distressed damsel.” 

“ Bah,” he said, “ you know it is not that. But you En¬ 
glish people, you always make your jokes about these things 
—not very good jokes either—and do not talk frankly about 
it. When madame comes to hear of this—and if ma¬ 
demoiselle is good enough not to cast me away—it will be a 
hard time for us, I know, from morning until night. But 
have I not told you what I have considered this young lady; 
so very generous in her nature, and not thinking of herself; 
so very frank and good-natured to all people around her; 
and of a good, light heart, that shows she can enjoy the 
world, and is of a happy disposition, and will be a very no¬ 
ble companion for the man who marries her? I would tell 
you much more, but I cannot in your language.” 

At all events, he had picked up a good many flattering 
adjectives. Mademoiselle’s dowry in that respect was 
likely to be considerable. 

Here we got back to the inn. Glasses were brought in, 
and we had a final game of bezique before retiring for the 


186 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


night; hut the lieutenant’s manner towards Bell was 
singularly constrained and almost distant, and he regarded 
her occasionally in a somewhat timid and anxious way. 

[Note hy Queen Titania. —“ It is perhaps unnecessary for me to 
explain that I am not responsible for the strange notions that may 
enter the heads of two light-hearted young people when they are 
away for a holiday. But I must protest against the insinuation— 
conveyed in a manner which I will not describe —that I was through¬ 
out scheming against Arthur’s suit with onr Bell. That poor boy 
is the son of two of my oldest friends ; and for himself we have 
always had the greatest esteem and liking. If he caused us a little 
annoyance at this time, he had perhaps a sort of excuse for it— 
which is more than some people can say, when they have long ago 
got over the jealousies of courtship, and yet do not cease to persecute 
their wives with far from good-natured jests—and it is, I think, a 
little unfair to represent me as being blind to his peculiar situation, 
or unmerciful towards himself. On the contrary, I am sure I did 
everything I could to smooth over the unpleasant incidents of his 
visit ; but I did not find it incumbent on me to become a partisan^ 
and spend hours in getting up philosophical— philosophical !— 
excuses for a rudeness which ^vas really unpardonable. What I 
chiefly wish for, I know, is to see all those young folks happy and 
enjoying themselves ; but it would puzzle laiser heads than mine to 
find a means of reconciling them. As for Coimt Von Kosen, if he 
made up his mind to ask Bell to be his wife, because Ellesmere 
looked pretty when the moon came out, I cannot help it. It is some 
years since I gave up the idea of attempting to account for the odd 
freaks and impulses that get into the heads of what I suppose WQ 
must call the superior 5cx.”j 


CHAPTER XVI. 

OUB UnLAN OUT-MAN(EUVEEED. 

Como down, come down, my bonny bird, 

And eat bread aff my hand : 

Your cage shall be of wiry goud, 

Whar now it’s but the wand.” 

“You are the most provoking husband I ever met 
with,” says Queen Titania. 

We are climbing up the steep ascent which leads 
from the village of Ellesmere to the site of an ancient castle. 
The morning is full of a breezy sunshine, and the cool 



OF A PHAETON'. 187 

northwester stirs here and there a gray ripple on tlie blii« 
waters of the lake below. 

“ I hope you have not had much experience in that 
direction,” I observe. 

“Very pretty. That is very nice indeed. We are im¬ 
proving, are we not? ” she says, turning to Bell. 

Bell, who has a fine color in her face from the light 
breeze and the brisk walking, puts her hand affectionately 
within her friend’s arm, and says, in gentle accents,— 

“ It is a shame to tease you so, you poor innocent little 
thing! But we will have our revenge. We will ask some¬ 
body else to protect you, my pet lamb ! ” 

“Lamb—hm ! Not much of the lamb visible, but a 
good deal of the vinegar sauce,” says one of us, mindful of 
past favors. 

It was a deadly quarrel. I think it had arisen out of 
Tita’s inability to discover which way the wind was blow¬ 
ing; but the origin of our sham-fights had seldom much to 
do with their subsequent rise and progress. 

“ I wish I had married you^ Count Von Bosen,” says 
my lady, turning proudly and graciously to her companion 
on the right. 

“ Don’t alarm the poor man,” I say; and indeed the 
lieutenant looked quite aghast. 

“ Madam,” he replied, gravely, when he had recovered 
himself, “ it is very kind of you to say so ; and if you had 
made me the offer sooner, I should have accepted it with 
great pleasure. But would there have been any difference ? 
No, I think not—perhaps it would be the worse. It is 
merely that you are married ; and you make believe to 
chafe against the bonds. Now, I think you two would 
be very agreeable to each other if you were not married.” 

“Ah, well,” said Tita, with an excellently constructed 
sigh; “I suppose we must look on marriage as a trial, and 
bear it with meekness and patience. We shall have our 
reward elsewhere.” 

Bell laughed in a demure manner. That calm assump¬ 
tion of the virtues of meekness and patience was a little 
too much ; but what was the use of further fighting on a 
morning like this? We got the key of a small gate. We 
climbed up a winding path through trees that were rust¬ 
ling in the sunlight. We emerged upon a beautiful green 
lawn—a bowling-green, in fact, girt in by a low hedge, and 
overlooked by a fancy little building. But the great charm 


188 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


of lliis elevated site was the panorama around and beyond. 
AVindy clouds of white and gray kept rolling up out of 
tlie west, throwing splashes of purple gloom on the bright 
landscape. Tlie trees waved and rustled in the cool breeze; 
the sunlight kept chasing the shadows across the far mea¬ 
dows. And then down below us lay the waters of Ellesmere 
lake—here and there a deep, dark blue, under the warm 
green of the woods, and here and there being stirred into 
a shimmer of white by the wind that was sweeping across 
the sky. 

“ And to-day we shall be in Chester, and to-morrow in 
Wales! ” cried Boll, looking away up to the north, where 
the sky was pretty well heaped up with the flying masses 
of cloud. She looked so bright and joyous then that one 
could almost have expected her to take flight herself, and 
disappear like a wild bird amidst the shifting lights and 
glooms of the windy day. The lieutenant, indeed, seemed 
continually regarding* her in rather an anxious and em¬ 
barrassed fashion. Was he afraid she might escape ? Or 
was he merely longing to get an opportunity of plunging 
into that serious business he had spoken of the night before ? 
Bell was all unconscious. She put her hand within Tita’s 
arm, and walked away over the green lawn, which was 
warm in the sunshine. We heard them talking of a picnic 
on this lofty and lonely spot—sketching out tents, archery- 
grounds, and what not, and assigning a place to the band. 
Then there were rumors of the “ Haymakers,” of “Roger 
de Coverley,” of the “Guaracha,” and I know not what 
other nonsense, coming toward us as the northwester blew 
back to us fragments of their talk, until even the lieutenant 
remarked that an old-fashioned country-dance would look 
very pretty up here, on such a fine piece of green, and 
with all the blue and breezy extent of a great English land¬ 
scape forming the circular walls of this magnificent ball¬ 
room. 

A proposal is an uncomfortable thing to carry about 
with one. Its weight is unconscionable, and on the merriest 
of days it will make a man down-hearted. To ask a women 
to marry is about the most serious duty which a man has 
to perform in life, even as some would say that it is the 
most unnecessary; and those who settled the relations of 
the sexes, before or after the Flood, should receive the 
gratitude of all womankind for the ingenuiLy with which 


OF A PHAETON, 189 

they Bliifted on to male shoulders this heavy and grievous 
burden. 

The lieutenant walked down with us from the hill and 
through the little village to the inn as one distraught. He 
scarcely even spoke—and never to Bell. lie regarded the 
getting out of the phaeton with a listless air. Castor and 
l^ollux, whose affections he had stolen away from us through, 
a whole series of sneaking kindnesses, whinnied to him in. 
vain. When my lady, who now assumed the responsibility 
of apportioning to us our seats, asked him to drive on, he 
obeyed mechanically. 

Now our Bonny Bell, as I have said, was unconscious 
of the awful possibilities that hung over our adventures of 
that day; and was in as merry a mood as you could desire 
to see. She sat beside the lieutenant; and scarcely had 
we gone gently along the narrow village street and out into 
the broader country road that leads northward, than she 
began to tell her companion of the manner in which Tita 
tyrannizes over our parish. 

“ You would not think it, would you?” she asked. 

“ Ko,” said the lieutenant, “ I should not think she was 
a very ferocious lady.” 

“ Then you don’t know her,” says a voice from behind ; 
and Tita says, “ Don’t begin again,” in an injured way, as 
if we were doing some sort of harm to the fine morning. 

“ I can assure you,” said Bell, seriously, “ that she rules 
the parish with a rod of iron. She knows every farthing 
that every laborer makes in the week, and he catches it if 
he does not bring home a fair jwoportion to his wife. 

‘ Well, Jackson,’ she says, ‘ I hear your master is going to 
give you fourteen shillings a week now.’ ‘Thank ye, 
ma’am,’ he says, for he knows quite well who secured him 
the additional shilling to his wages. ‘ But I want you to 
give me threepence out of it for the savings-bank; and 
your wife will gather up sixpence a week until she gets , 
enough for another pair of blankets for you, now the winter 
is coming on, you know.” Well, the poor man dares not 
object. He gives up three-fourths of the shilling he had 
been secretly expecting to spend on beer, and does not 
say a word. The husbands in our parish have a bad time 
of it-” 

“ One of them has, at least,” says that voice from be¬ 
hind. 

« And you should see how our Tita will confront a 


190 the strange adventures 

huge fellow who is half bemused with beer, and order him 
to "be silent in her presence. ‘ How dare you speak to 
your wife like that before me ? ’ and he is as quiet as a lamb. 
And sometimes the wives have a turn of it, too—not re¬ 
proof, you know, but a look of surprise if they have not 
linished the sewing of the children’s frocks which Tita and 
I have cut out for them ; or if they have gone into the ale¬ 
house with their husbands late on the Saturday night; or 
if they have missed being at church next morning. Then 
you should see the farmers’ boys playing pitch-and-toss in 
the road on the Sunday forenoon—how they scurry away 
like rabbits when they see her coming up from church— 
they fly behind stacks, or plunge through hedges, anything 
to get out of her way.” 

“ And I am not assisted. Count Von Kosen, in any of 
these things,” says my lady, “ by a young lady who was once 
known to catch a small boy and shake him by the shoulders 
because he threw a stone at the clergyman as he passed.” 

“ Then you do assist, mademoiselle,” inquires the lieu¬ 
tenant, “ in this overseeing of the parish? ” 

“ Oh, I merely keep the books,” replied Bell. “ I am 
the treasurer of the savings-bank, and I call a fortnightly 
meeting to announce the purchase of the various kinds of 
cotton and woollen stuffs, at wholesale prices, and to hear 
from the subscribers what they most need. Then we have 
the materials cut into patterns, we pay so much to the 
women for sewing, and then we sell the things when they 
are made, so that the people pay for everything they get, 
and yet get it far cheaper than they would at a shop, while 
wo are not out of pocket by it.” 

Here a deep groan is heard from the hind-seat of the 
phaeton. That beautiful fiction about the ways and moans 
of our local charities has existed in our household for 
many a day. The scheme is admirable. There is no pau¬ 
perization of the peasantry around. The theory is that 
Queen Tita and Bell merely come in to save the cost of 
distribution; and that nothing is given away gratis exce])t 
their charitable labor. It is a ])retty theory. The folks 
round about us find it answers admirably. But somehow 
or other—whether from an error in Bell’s book-keeping, or 
whether from a sudden rise in the price of flannel, or some 
other recondite and esoteric cause—all I know is that the 
system demand^ an annual subvention from the head of 
the house. Of course, my lady can explain all that away. 


OF A FHAETOFT. 


191 


There is some temporary defect in the working-out of the 
Bcheme; the self-supporting character of it remains easy of 
demonstration. It may bo so. But a good deal of bread 
—in the shape of checks—lias been thrown upon the waters 
in a certain district in England ; while the true author of 
the charity—the real dispenser of those good things—is not 
considered in the matter, and is privately regarded as a 
sort of grudging person, who does not understand the 
larger claims of humanity. 

At length we have our first glimpse of Wales. From 
Ellesmere to Overton the road gradually ascends, until, 
just before you come to Overton, it skirts the edge of a 
high plateau, and all at once you are confronted by the 
sight of a great valley, through which a stream, brown as a 
Welsh rivulet ought to be, is slowly stealing. That nar¬ 
row thread that twists through spacious woods and green 
meadows is the river Dee; far away beyond the valley 
that it waters rise the blue masses of Cyrn-y-Brain and Cefn- 
y-Fedn, while to the south of the latter range lies the gaj) 
by which you enter the magic vale of Llangollen. On this 
breezy morning there were white clouds blowing over the 
dusky peaks of the mountains, while ever and anon, from 
a blue rift overhead, a shimmering line of silver would 
strike down, and cause the the side of some distant hill to 
—shine in pale-brown, and gray, and gold. 

“ That is a very strange sight to mo,” said the lieuten¬ 
ant, as the horses stood in the road; “ all these great 
mountains, with, I think, no houses on them. That is the 
wild country into which the first inhabitants of this country 
fled when the German tribes swarmed over here—all that 
we have been tauglit at school; but only think of the 
difficulty the Berlin boy, living with nothing but miles of 
flat sand around him, has to imagine a wild region like 
this, which gave shelter because no one could follow into 
its forest and rocks. And how are we to go? We can¬ 
not drive into these mountains.” 

“ Oh, but there are very fine roads in Wales,” said Bell; 
“ Droad, smooth, well-made roads ; and you can drive 
through the most beautiful scenery, if you wish.” 

However, it was arranged we should not attempt any¬ 
thing of the kind, which would take us too far out of our 
route to Scotland. It was resolved to let the horses have 
a rest in Chester the next day, while we should take a run 
down by rail to Llanrwst and Bettws-y-Coed, merely to give 


192 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


our Uhlan a notion of t]»e difScullies he would have to 
encounter in subduing this country, when the time came for 
that little expedition. 

So we bowled through the little village of Overton, and 
down the Avinding road which plunges into the beautiful 
valley we had been regarding from the lieight. We had not 
yet struck the Dee; but it seemed as tliough the ordinary 
road doAvn in this plain was a private path through a 
magnificent estate. As far as we could see, a splendid 
avenue of elms stretched on in front of us; and while Ave 
drove through the cool shade, on either side lay a spacious 
extent of park, studded Avith grand old oaks. At length 
Ave came upon the stream, flowing brown and clear, down 
through picturesque and Avooded banks; and then we got 
into open country again, and ran pleasantly up to Wrex¬ 
ham. 

Perhaps the lieutenant would have liked to bait the 
horses in some tiny village near to this beautiful stream. 
We should all have gone out for a saunter along the banks ; 
and, in the pulling of wild floAvers, or the taking of sketches, 
or some such idyllic employment, the party Avould, in all 
likelihood, have got divided. It Avould have been a pleasant 
opportunity for him to ask this gentle English girl to be his 
wife, Avith the sweet influences of the holiday-time disposing 
her to consent, and with the quiet of this wooded valley 
ready to catch her smallest admission. Besides, Avho could 
tell Avhat might happen after Bell had reached Chester ? 
That Avas the next of the large towns Avhich Arthur had 
agreed to make points of communication. I think the 
lieutenant began at this time to look upon large towns as an 
abomination, to curse telegraphs, and hate the penny-post 
Avith a deadly hatred. 

But in place of any such quiet resting-place, we had to 
put up Castor and Pollux in the brisk little tOAvn of Wrex¬ 
ham, which Avas even more than usually busy Avith its market- 
day. The Wynnstay Arms Avas full of farmers, seed-agents, 
implement-makers, and Avhat not, all roaring and talking to 
the last limit of their lungs, bustling about the place, and 
calling for glasses of ale, or attacking huge joints of cold 
roast-beef Avith an appetite Avhich had evidently not been 
educated on nothing. The streets Avere filled Avith the 
venders of various Avares ; the wives and daughters of the 
farmers, having come in from the country in the dog-cart 
or Avagonette Avere promenading along the pavement in tho 


OF A FI/AETON. 


198 


most gorgeous hues known to silken and muslin fabrics; 
cattle were being driven through narrow thoroughfares ; and 
the sellers of fruit and of fish in the market-place alarming 
the air with their invitations. The only quiet corner, indeed, 
was the churchyard and the church, through which wo 
wandered for a little while; but young folks are not so 
foolish as to tell secrets in a building that has an echo. 

Was there no chance for our unfortunate Uhlan ? 

“ Hurry—hurry on to Chester ! ” cried Bell, as we drove 
away from Wrexham along the level northern road. 

A gloomy silence had overtaken the lieutenant He was 
now sitting behind with my lady, and she was doing her 
best to entertain him (there never was a woman who could 
make herself more agreeable to persons not of her own 
household), while he sat almost mute, listening respectfully, 
and half suffering himself to be interested. 

Our pretty Bell, on the other hand, was all delight at 
the prospect of reaching the quaint old city that evening, 
and was busy with wild visions of our plunge into Wales 
on the morrow, while ever and anon she hummed snatches 
of the lieutenant’s Burgundy song.* 

“Please may I make a confession?” she asked, at 
length, in a low voice. 

“ Why, yes.” 

I hoped, however, she was not going to follow the 
example of the lieutenant, and confide to me that she 
meditated making a proposal. Athough men dislike this 
duty, they have a prejudice against seeing it undertaken 
by women. 

“ All our journey has wanted but one thing,” said Bell. 
“We have had everything that could be wished—bright 
weather, a comfortable way of travelling, much amuse¬ 
ment, plenty of fights—indeed, there was nothing wanting 
but one thing, and that was the sea. Now, did you ever 
try to look for it? Were you never anxious to see only a 
long thread of gray near the sky, and be quite sure that 
out there the woods stopped on the edge of a line of sand? 

* Count Von Rosen, fearing that his English is not first-rate, begs 
me to say that his very excellent friend Mr. Charles Oberthur, with 
whose name the public is pretty well familiar, has been good enough 
to set this song to music. He thinks Mr. Oberthur’s music better than 
that which the young Englishmen used to sing at Bonn, and Bell 
thinks so too ; but, then, her opinion always coincides. However, I 


194 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 



I dared not tell Tita, for she would have thought me very 
ungrateful; but I may tell you, for you don’t seem to care 


am permitted, by the joint kindness of Mr. Orberthur and the lieu¬ 
tenant, to give the music here:— 

“BUKGUNDY KOSK” 


Allegro moderato. Music by CHARLES Oberthur. 



mf Oh, 
n 

Bur - gun - dy 

is - n’t a good thing to 


r* ' 

-!- 

—1-1] 

1 



z% ___ifLd 

r 

•i9r 



//c- # 

•2?* 

■27* 

, 


• ! 

1 

1 1 '1 

O _S! 

'• 'I* 


J "1 



-L- 

- 



- 1 - 

—1- 
’Z/' 

-1 

=± 


F - 


# ? f- m - ' 

fo—- T — 

- • - 

-r # » r 

OZ -L 4- 

%J ' 1 


i.:-?-L-U-d 


drink, Young man, I be - seech you con - sid - er and 


^ a 


--1 

f J.== 


'zr 

K -J 

- /$« - 

—I- 

\ 

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•s?* 


~ g- 

- 9 ^ - 2 ?- 



mysterioso. 










































































































































































OF A FHAETOFT. 


195 


about anybody’s opinions; but I used to get a little vexed 
with the constant meadows, rivers, farms, hills, woods, and 
all that over and over again, and the sea not coming any 
nearer. Of course, one had no right to complain, as I sup¬ 
pose it’s put down in the map, and can’t be altered; but 




cov - er the col - or of Bur - gun - dy rose. 

















































































































































































































































196 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 




WO seem to have been a long time coming across the coim- 
Iry to reach the sea. 

“ Why, you wild sea-gull! do you think tliat was our 
only object ? A long time reaching the sea! Don’t imagine 
your anxiety was concealed. 1 saw you perpetually scan¬ 
ning the horizon, as if one level line wore better than any 
other level line at such a distance. You began it on 
liichmond Hill, and would have us believe the waves of 
the Irish Channel were breaking somewhere about Wind¬ 
sor.” 

“ No, no ! ” pleaded Bell; “ don’t think me ungrateful. 




Tenori. 


Bass i. 


Chorus, a 

. f \ N 



.1 

i] 

j j 
1 1 

II 

u 

jtj • n 

1 

0 • 5 0 _ 



n-i --r 

(5^ * 1 

L: 



’ 1 


Bur - gnu - dy rose, 




:-yi 


— 


~is>z 


Bur - gun - dy 

t . ^ ! 

- 0 - 


-Jfi -^ 








-0- 

- 0 - 


- 0 - 

- 0 - 


Z9.Z 

- 0 - 


—<5?—•- 


f a tempo. 


z!- 0—'TZz:n -;- 


2/-.- 






I-;-- 9 -1 

—^-#-H 



rose, A dan - ger - ous symp - tom is 
































































































































OF A PHAETON, 


197 


I think we have been most fortunate in coming as we did; 
and Count Von Rosen must have seen every sort of Eng^ 
lish landscape—first the river-j/icturcs about Richmond, 
then the wooded lulls about Oxfordshire, then the plains of 
Berkshire, then the mere country about Ellesmere—and 
now he is going into the mountains of Wales. But all the 
same we shall reach the sea to-morrow.’’ 

“What are you two fighting about?” says Queen 
Titania, interposing. 

“We are not fighting,” says Bell, in the meekest pos¬ 
sible w’ay; “ we are not husband and wife.” 

“ I wish you were,” says the other, coolly. 

“ Madame,” I observe at this point, “ that is rather a 
dangerous jest to play with. It is now the second time 
you have made use of it this morning.” 

“And if I do repeat old jokes, ” says Tita, with a certain 
calm audacity, “it must be through the force of a continual 
example.” “ —And such jests sometimes fix themselves 
in the mind until they develop and grow into a serious pur¬ 
pose.” 

“ Does that mean that you would like to marry Bell ? if 
it can be done legally and properly, I should not be sorry, 
I know. Can it be done, Count Von Rosen ? Shall we 
four go back to London with different partners? An ex¬ 
change of husbands—” 



* For tlie last three verses see p. 167. 



















































198 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


]\Ierciful powers! what was the woman saying? She 
suddenly stopped, and an awful consternation fell on the 
whole four of us. Tliat poor little mite of a creature had 
been taking no thought of her words in her pursuit of this 
harmless jest; and somehow it had wandered into her brain 
that Bell and the lieutenant were on the same footing as 
herself and I. A more embarrassirg slip of the tongue 
could not be conceived ; and for several dreadful seconds 
no one had the courage to speak, until Bell, wildly and in¬ 
coherently—with her face and forehead glowing like a rose 
—asked whether there was a theatre in Chester. 

“No,’’cries my lady, eagerly; “don’t ask us to go to 
the theatre to-night, Bell; let us go for a walk rather.” 

She positively did not know what she was saying. It 
was a wonder she did not propose we should go to the 
gardens of Cremorne, or up in a balloon. Her heart was 
filled with anguish and dismay over the horrible blunder 
she had made; and she began talking about Chester, in a 
series of disconnected sentences, in which the heartrending 
effort to appear calm and unconstrained was painfully ob¬ 
vious. Much as I have had to bear at the hands of that 
gentle little woman, I felt sorry for her then. I wondered 
what she and Bell would say to each other when they went 
off for a private confabulation at night. 

By the time that we drew near Chester, however, this 
unfortunate incident was pretty well forgotten ; and we 
were sufficiently tranquil to regard witli interest the 
old city, which was now marked out in the twilight by 
the yellow twinkling of the gas-lamps. People had come 
forth for their evening stroll round the great wall which 
encircles the town. Down in the level meadows by the 
side of the Dee, lads were still playing cricket. The 
twilight, indeed, was singularly clear ; and when we had 
driven into the town, and put up the phaeton at an enor¬ 
mous Gothic hotel wliich seemed to overawe the small old- 
fashioned houses in its neighborhood, we too set out for a 
leisurely walk round the ancient ramparts. 

But here again the lieutenant was disappointed, llow 
could he talk privately to Bell on this public promenade ? 
Lovers there were there, but all in solitary pairs. If Tita 
had only known that she and I were interfering with the 
happiness of our young folks, she would have thrown herself 
headlong into the moat rather than continue this unwilling 
persecution. As it was, she went peacefully along, watch- 


OF A PHAETON. 


199 


ing the purple light of the evening fall over the great land¬ 
scape around the city. The ruddy glow in the windows 
became more and more pronounced. There were voices 
of boys still heard down in the racecourse, but there was 
no more cricketing possible. In the still evening, a hush 
seemed to fall over the town ; and when we got round to 
the weir on the river, the vague white masses of water that 
we could scarcely see sent the sound of tlieir roaring and 
tumbling, as it were, into a hollow chamber. Then we 
plunged once more into the streets. The shops were lighted. 
The quaint galleries along the first floor of the houses, 
which are the special architectural glory of Chester* were 
duskily visible in the light of the lamps. And then we 
escaped into the yellow glare of the great dining-room of 
the Gothic hotel, and sat ourselves down for a comfortable 
ev.ening. 

“ Well, ” 1 say to the lieutenant, as we ^o into the smok¬ 
ing room, when the women have retired for the night, 
“have you asked Bell yet?” 

“No, he answers morosely. 

“ Then you have escaped another day ! ” 

“ It was not my intention. I will ask her—whenever I 
get the chance—that I am resolved upon : and if she says 
‘No,’ why, it is my misfortune, that is all.” 

“ I have told you she is certain to say * No. ’ ” 

“Very well.” 

“ But I have a proposal to make.” 

“So have I, ” says the lieutenant, with a gloomy smile. 

“To-morrow you are going down to see a bit of Wales. 
Why spoil the day prematurely ? Put it off unti the even¬ 
ing, and then take your refusal like a man. Don’t do 
an injustice.” 

“ Why, ” says the lieutenant, peevishly, “ you think noth¬ 
ing is important but looking at a fine country and enjoying 
yourself out of doors. I do not care what happens to a lot 
of mountains and rivers when this thing is for me far more 
important. When I can speak to mademoiselle, I will do 
so: and I do not care if all Wales is put under water to¬ 
morrow—” 

“After your refusal, the deluge. Well, it is a good 
thing to be prepared. But you need not talk in an injured 
tone, which reminds one oddly of Arthur.” ^ 

You should have seen the stare on Von Rosen’s face. 

“ It is true. All you boys are alike when you fall in 


200 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


love—all unreasonable, discontented, perverse, and generally 
objectionable. It was all very well for you to call attention 
to that unhappy young man’s conduct when you were in 
your proper senses; but now, if you go on as you are 
going, it will be the old story over again.” 

“ Then you think I will persecute mademoiselle, and be 
insolent to her and her friends ? ” 

“ All in good time. Bell refuses you to-morrow. You 
are gloomy for a day. You ask yourself why she has done 
so. Then you come to us and beg for our interference. 
We tell you it is none of our business. You say we are ])re- 
judiced against you, and accuse us of forwarding Arthur’s 
suit. Then you begin to look on him as your successful 
rival. You grow so furiously jealous—” 

Here the Uhlan broke into a tremendous laugh. 

“ My good friend, I have discovered a great secret,” he 
cried. “ Do you know who is jealous ? It is you. You 
will oppose any one who tries to take mademoiselle away 
from you. And I—I will try— and I will do UP 

From the greatest despondency he had leaped to a sort 
of wild and crazy hope of success. lie smiled to himself, 
walked about the room, and talked in the most buoyant 
and friendly manner about the prospects of the morrow. 
He blew clouds of cigar smoke about as if he were 
Neptune getting to the surface of the sea, and blow¬ 
ing back the sea-foam from about his face. And then, all 
at once, he sat down—we were the only occupants of the 
room—and said, in a hesitating way,— 

“ Look here—do you think madame could speak a word 
to her—if she does say ‘ No?’ ” 

“ I thought it would come to that.” 

“ You are—what do you call it ?—very unsympathetic.” 
“Unsympathetic ! No ; I have a great interest in both 
of you. But the whole story is so old one has got familiar 
with its manifestations.” 

“ It is a very old and common thing to be born, but it 
is a very important thing, and it only happens to you once.” 

“ And falling in love only happens to you once, I sup¬ 
pose ? ” 

“ Oh no, many times. I have very often been in love 
with this girl or the other girl, but never until this time 
seriou^. I never before asked any one to marry me ; and 
•urely this is serious—that I offer for her sake to give up 


OF A PHAETON. 


201 


my country, and my friends, and my profession—cvery- 
thin£^. Surely that is serious enough.” 

And so it was. And I knew that if ever he got Bell to 
listen favorably to him, he would have little difficulty in 
convincing her that he had never cared for any one before, 
while she would easily assure him that she had always re¬ 
garded Arthur only as a friend. For there are no lies so 
massive, audacious, and unblushing as those told by two 
young folks when they recount to each other the history of 
their previous love affairs. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

IN THE FAIUY GLEN. 

“ O Queen, tlion knowest I pray not for this* 

Oil set us down together in some place 
Where not a voice can break our heaven of bliss 
Where naught but rocks and I can see her face 
Softening beneath the marvel of thy grace, 

Where not a foot our vanished steps can track. 

The golden age, the golden age come back ! ” 

Little did our Bonny Bell reck of the plot that had 
been laid against her peace of mind. She was as joyous as 
a wild seabird when we drew near the sea. All the morn¬ 
ing she had hurried us on ; and we were at the station some 
twenty minutes before the train started. Then she must 
needs sit on the northern side of the carriage, close in by 
the window; and all at once, when there flashed before us 
a long and level stretch of gray-green, she uttered a quick 
low cry of gladness, as though the last wish of her life had 
been realized. 

Yet there was not much in this glimpse of the sea that 
we got as we ran slowly along the coast-line towards Con¬ 
way. It was a quiet gray day, with here and there a patch 
of Idue overhead. The sea was stirred only by a ripple. 
Here and there it darkened into a breezy green, but for the 
most part it reflected the cold gray sky overhead. The 
sliores were flat. The tide was up, and not a rock to be 
seen. One or two small boats were visible ; but no great 



202 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


full-rigged ship, with all her white sails swelling before the 
wind, swept onward to the low horizon. But it was the sea 
—that was enough for this mad girl of ours. She had the 
window put down, and a cold odor of sea-weed flew through 
the carriage. If there was not much blue outside, there was 
plenty in the deep and lambent color of her eyes, where pure 
joy and delight fought strangely with the half-saddening 
influences produced by this first unexpected meeting with 
the sea. 

Turning abruptly away from the coast-line—with the 
gray walls of Conway Castle overlooking the long sweep of 
the estuary—we plunged down into the mountains. The dark 
masses of firs up among the rocks were deepening in gloom. 
There was an unearthly calm on the surface of the river, as 
if the reflection of the boulders, and the birch-bushes, and 
the occasional cottages lay waiting for the first stirring of 
the rain. Then, far away up the cleft of the valley, a gray 
mist came floating over the hills ; it melted whole mountains 
into a soft dull gray, it blotted out dark-green forests and 
mighty masses of rock, until a pattering against the carriage 
windows told us that the rain had begun. 

“It is always so in Wales,” said my lady, with a sigh. 

But when we got out at Bettws-y-Coed you would not 
have fancied our spirits were grievously oppressed. Indeed, 
I often remarked that we never enjoyed ourselves so much, 
whctlier in the pliaeton or out of it, as when there was 
abundcnt rain about, the desperation of the circumstances 
driving us into being recklessly merry. So we would not 
take the omnibus that was carrying up to the Swallow Falls 
some half-dozen of those horrid creatures, the tourists. The 
deadly dislike we bore to these unoffending people was 
remarkable. What right had they to be invading this won¬ 
derful valley ? What right had they to leave Bayswater 
and occupy seats at the tables d'hote of hotels? We saw 
them drive away with a secret pleasure. We hoped they 
would get wet, and swear never to return to Wales. We 
called them tourists, in short, which has become a term of 
opprobrium among Englishmen; but we would have per¬ 
ished rather than admit for a moment that we too were 
tourists. 

It did not rain very much. There was a strong resinous 
odor in the air, from the spruce, the larch, the pines, and 
the breckans, as we got through the wood, and ventured 
do^s'n the slippery paths which brought us in front of th* 


OF A PHAETON, 


i^03 

Sv^allow Falls. There had been plenty of rain, and the 
foaininpj jets of water were darting among the rocks very 
much like the white glimmer of the marten as he cuts about 
the eaves of a house in the twilight. The roar of the river 
filled the air, and joined in chorus the rustling of the trees 
in the wind. We could scarcely hear ourselves speak. It 
was not a time for confidences. We returned to Bettws. 

But the lieutenant, driven wild by the impossibility of 
placing all his sorrows before Bell, eagerly assented to 
the proposal that we should go and see the Fairy Glen—a 
much more retired spot—after luncheon. The dexterity he 
displayed in hurrying over that meal was remarkable. It 
was rather a scramble ; for a number of visitors were in the 
place, and the long table was pretty well filled up. But 
with a fine audacity our Uhlan constituted himself waiter 
for our party, and simply harried the hotel. If my lady’s 
eyes only happened to wander towards a particular dish, it 
was before her in a twinkling. The lieutenant alarmed many 
a young lady there by first begging her pardon and then 
reaching over lier shoulder to carry off some huge plate ; 
although he presently atoned for these misdemeanors by 
carving a couple of fowls for the use of the whole company. 
He also made the acquaintance of a governess who was in 
charge of two tender little women of twelve and fourteen. 
He sat down by the governess ; discovered that she had been 
at Bettws for some weeks; got from her some appalling 
statistics of the rain that had fallen ; then—for the mails 
were rather remiss—went and got her a bottle of ale, which 
he drew for her, and poured out and graciously handed to 
her. Bell was covertly laughing all the time : my lady was 
amazed. 

“Now,” he said, turning in quite a matter-of-fact •way 
to us, “ when do we start for this Fairy Glen ? ” 

“Pray don’t let us take you away from such charming 
companionship,” observed my lady, with a smile. 

“ Oh, she is a very intelligent person,” says the lieuten¬ 
ant; “ really a very intelligent person. But she makes a 
great mistake in preferring Schiller’s plays to Lessing’s 
for her pupils. I tried to convince her of that. She is going 
to the lihine with those young ladies, later on in the year— 
Konigswinter. Would it not be a very nice thing for us 
all, when we leave the phaeton at your home, to go for a few 
weeks to Konigswinter ? ” 


204 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“We cannot all flirt with a pretty governess,” says 
Tita 

“ Now that is too bad of you English ladies,” retorts the 
lieutenant. “You must always think, when a man talks to 
a girl, he wants to be in love with her. No ; it is absurd. 
She is intelligent—a good talker—she knows very many 
tilings, and she is a stranger like myself in a hotel. Why 
should I not talk to her?” 

“ You arc right. Count Von Eosen,” says Boll. 

Of course he was quite right. He was always quite 
right! But wait a bit! 

We set off for the Fairy Glen. The rain had ceased; 
but the broad and smooth roads were yellow with water; 
large drops still fell from the trees, and the air was humid 
and warm. The lieutenant lighted a cigar about as big as 
a wooden leg; and Bell insisted on us two falling rather 
behind, because that she liked the scent of a cigar in the 
open air. 

We crossed the well-known Waterloo Bridge—built in 
the same year as that which chronicled the great battle— 
and we heard the lieutenant relating to Tita how several of 
his relatives had been in the army which came up to help us 
on that day. 

“ You know we had won before you came up,” said my 
lady, stoutly. 

The lieutenant laughed. 

“ I am not sure about that,” he said ; “ but you did what 
we could not have done—you held the whole French army 
by yourselves, and crippled it so that our mere appearance 
on the battlefield was enough.” 

“ I think it was very mean of both of you,” said Bell, 
“ to win a battle by mere force of numbers. If you had 
given Napoleon a chance—” 

“ Mademoiselle,” said Von Rosen, “ the object of a cam¬ 
paign is to win battles—anyhow. You throw away the 
heroic elements of the old single combatants when it is with 
armies that you fight, and you take all advantages you can 
get. But who was the braver then—your small English 
army, or the big French one that lost the whole day with¬ 
out overwhelming their enemy, and waited until we came 
down to drive them back? That is a very^good word— 
a very strong word—our zurueJegeworfen, It is a very good 
thing to see that word at the end of a sentence that talks of 
your enemies.” 


OF A PHAETON. 


205 


At length we got to the neighborhood of the Fairy Glen, 
and found ourselves in among the wet trees, with the roar 
of the stream reverberating through the woods. There were 
a great many paths in this pretty ravine. You can go close 
down to the water, and find still pools reflecting the silver- 
lichened rocks, or you can clamber along the liigh banks 
til rough the birch and hazel and elm, and look down on the 
white waterfalls beneath you that wet the ferns and bushes 
about with their spray. Four people need not stay together. 
Perhai:)S it was because of an extraordinary change in the 
aspect of the day that Tita and I lost sight of the young 
folks. Indeed, we had sat down upon a great smooth boul¬ 
der, and were pensively enjoying the sweet scents around, 
and the plashing of the stream, when this strange thing oc¬ 
curred, so that we never remembered that our companions 
had gone. Suddenly into the gloomy gray day there leaped 
a wild glow of yellow fire ; and far up the narrowing vista 
of the glen—where the rocks grew closer together—the sun¬ 
light smote down on the gleaming green of the underwood, 
until it shone and sparkled over the smooth pools. The 
light came nearer. There was still a sort of mist of damp¬ 
ness in the atmosphere—hanging about the woods, and dull¬ 
ing the rich colors of the glen ; but as the sunlight came 
straggling down the rocky ravine a dash of blue gleamed 
out overhead, and a rush of wind through the dripping green 
branches seemed to say that the wet was being swept off 
the mountains and towards the sea. The Fairy Glen was 
now a blaze of transparent green and fine gold, with white 
diamonds of raindrops glittering on the ferns and moss and 
bushes. It grew warm, too, down in the hollow ; and the 
sweet odors of the forest above—woodruff, and campion, 
and wild mint, and some decayed leaves of the great Saint 
John’s wort—all stole out into the moist air. 

“ Where have they gone?” says Tita, almost sharply. 

“ My dear,” I say to her, “ you were young yourself 
once. It’s a good time ago ; but still—” 

“ Bell never asked for letters this morning,” remarked 
my lady, showing the direction her thoughts were taking. 

“No matter; Arthur will be meeting us directly. He 
is sure to come over to our route in his dog-cart.” 

“ We must find them, and get back to Bettws-y-Coed,” 
is the only reply which is vouchsafed me. 

They were not far to seek. When we had clambered 
up the steep bank to the path overhead, Bell and the lieu- 


206 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


tenant were standing in the road, silent. As soon as they 
saw us, they came slowly walking down. Neither spoke a 
word. Somehow, Bell managed to attach herself to Tita; 
and these two went on ahead. 

“ You were right,” said the lieutenant, in a low voice, 
very different from his ordinary light and careless fashion. 

“ You have asked her, then ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And she refused ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ I thought she would.” 

“Now,” he said, “I suppose I ought to go back to 
London.” 

“ Wliy ? ” 

“ It will not be pleasant for her—my being hero. It 
will be very embarrassing to both of us.” 

“Nonsense! She will regard it as a joke.” 

I am afraid our Uhlan looked rather savage at this mo¬ 
ment. 

“ Don’t you see,” I observed to him seriously, “ that if 
you go away in this manner you will give the affair a tre¬ 
mendous importance, and make all sorts of explanations 
necessary ? Why not school yourself to meeting her on 
ordinary terms; and take it that your question was a sort 
of preliminary sounding, as it were, without prejudice to 
either ? ” 

“ Then you think I should ask her again, at some future 
time?” he said eagerly. 

“ I don’t think anything of the kind.” 

“ Then why should I remain here ? ” 

“ I hope you did not come with us merely for the pur¬ 
pose of proposing to Bell.” 

“ No, that is true enough ; but our relations are now all 
altered. I do not know what to do.” 

“ Don’t do anytliing: meet her as if nothing of the kind 
had occurred. A sensible girl like her will think more 
highly of you in doing that than in doing some wild and 
mad thing, which will only have the effect of annoying her 
and yourself. Did she give you any reason ? ” 

“ I do not know,” said Von Rosen, disconsolately. “I 
am not sure what I said. Perhaps I did not explain 
enough. Perhaps she thought me blunt, rude, coarse in 
asking her so suddenly. It was all a sort of fire for a 


OF A PHAETON-. 207 

minute or two—and then the cold water came—and that 
lasts.” 

The two women were now far ahead : surely they were 
walking fast that Bell might have an 02 )portunjty of con¬ 
fiding all her perplexities to her friend. 

“ I suppose,” said Von Rosen, “ that I suffer for my own 
folly. I might have known. But for this day or two back, 
it has seemed so great a chance to me—of getting her to 
promise at least to think of it—and the prospect of hav¬ 
ing such a wife as that—it was all too much. Perhaps I 
have done the worst for myself by the hurry ; but was it 
not excusable in a man to be in a hurry to ask such a girl 
to be his wife? And there is no harm in knowing soon that 
all that was impossible.” 

Doubtless it was comforting to him to go on talking. I 
wonder what Bell was saying at this moment; and whether 
a comparison of their respective views would throw some 
light on the subject. As for the lieutenant, he seemed to 
regard Bell’s decision as final. If he had been a little older, 
he might not; but having just been plunged from the pin¬ 
nacle of hope into an abyss of despair, he was too stunned 
to think of clambering up again by degrees. 

But even at this time all his thoughts were directed to 
the best means of making his presence as little of an embar¬ 
rassment to Bell as possible. 

“ This evening will pass away very well,” he said, “ for 
everybody will be talking at dinner, and we need not to 
address each other; but to morrow—if you think this better 
that I remain with you—then you will drive the phaeton, 
and you will give mademoiselle the front seat—for the 
whole day ? Is it agreed, yes ? ” 

“ Certainly. You must not think of leaving us at 
present. You see, if you went away we should have to 
send for Arthur.” 

A sort of fiame blazed up into the face of the lieutenant; 
and he said, in a rapid and vehement way,— 

“ This thing I will say to you : if mademoiselle will not 
marry me, good. It is the right of every girl to have her 
choice. But if you allow her to marry that pitiful follow, 
it will be a shame ; and you will not forgive yourself, either 
madarae or you, in the years afterward—that I am quite 
sure of.” 

“ But what have we to do with Bell’s choice of a hug- 
band?” 


208 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ You talked just now of sending for him to join your 
party.” 

“ Why, Bell isn’t bound to marry every one who comes 
for a drive with us. Your own case is one in point.” 

“ But this is quite different. This wretched fellow thinks 
he has an old right to her, as being an old friend, and all 
that stupid nonsense; and I know that she has a strange 
idea that she owes to him—” 

The lieutenant suddenly stopped. 

“ No,” he said, “ I will not tell you what she did tell to 
me this afternoon. But I think you know it all; and it will 
be very bad of you to make a sacrifice of her by bringing 
him here—” 

“ If you remain in the phaeton, we can’t.” 

“ Then I will remain.” 

“ Thank you. As Tita and I have to consider ourselves 
just a little bit—amidst all this whirl of love-making and 
reckless generosity—I must say we prefer your society to 
that of Master Arthur.” 

“ That is a very good compliment! ” says Yon Rosen, 
with an ungracious sneer; for who ever heard of a young 
man of twenty-six being just to a young man of twenty- 
two when both wanted to marry the same young lady ? 

We overtook our companions. Bell and I walked on 
together to the hotel, and subsequently down to the station. 
An air of gloom seemed to hang over the heavy forests far 
up amidst the gray rocks. The river had a mournful sound 
as it came rushing down between the mighty boulders. 
Bell scarcely uttered a word as we got into the carriage 
and slowly steamed away from the platform. 

Whither had gone the joy of her face? She was once 
more approaching the sea. Under ordinary circumstances 
you would have seen an anticipatory light in her blue eyes, 
as if she already heard the long plash of the waves and 
smelled the sea-weed. Now she sat in a corner of the car¬ 
riage; and when at last we came in view of the most beau¬ 
tiful sight that we had yet met on our journey, she sat and 
gazed at it with the eyes of one distraught. 

That was a rare and wild picture we saw when we got 
back to the sea. The heavy rain clouds had sunk down 
until they formed a low dense wall of purple all along the 
line of the western horizon between the sea and the sky. 
That heavy bar of cloud was almost black; but just above 
it there was a calm fair stretch of lambent green, with here 


OF A PHAETON, 


209 


and there a torn shred of crimson cloud and ont ur tvro 
lines of sharp gold, lying parallel with the horizon. But 
away over in the east again were some windy masses of 
cloud that had caught a blush of red ; and these had sent a 
pale reflection down on the sea—a sort of salmon-color that 
seemed the complement of the still gold-green overhead. 

The sunset touched faintly the low mountains about the 
mouth of the Dee. A rose-red glimmer struck the glass of 
the window at which Bell sat; and then, as the train made 
a slight curve in the line running by the shore, the warm 
liglit entered and lighted up her face with a rich and beau¬ 
tiful glow. The lieutenant, hidden in the dusk of the oppo¬ 
site corner, was regarding her Avith wistful eyes. Perhaps 
ho thought that now, more than ever, she looked like some 
celestial being far out of his reach, whom he had dared to 
hope would forsake her strange altitudes and share his life 
with liini. Tita, saying nothing, was also gazing out of the 
Avindow, and probably pondering on the unhappy climax 
that seemed to put an end to her friendly hopes. 

Darkness fell over the sea and the land. The great plain 
of water seemed to fade aAvay into the gloom of the hori¬ 
zon ; but here, close at hand, the pools on the shore occa¬ 
sionally caught the last reflection of the sky, and flashed 
out a gleam of yelloAV fire. The wild intensity of the colors 
Avas almost painful to the eyes—the dark blue-green of the 
shore plants and the sea-grass, the gathering purple of the 
sen, the black rocks on the sand, and then that sudden be- 
Avildering flash of gold where a pool had been left among 
the sea-weed. The mountains in the south had now disap¬ 
peared ; and Avere doubtless— aAvay in that mysterious dark¬ 
ness—wreathing themselves in the cold night-mists that 
were slowly rising from the woods and the valleys of the 
streams. Such Avas our one and only glimpse of Wales; 
and the day that Bell had looked forAvard to with such eager 
delight had closed in silence and despair. 

When Ave got back to the hotel, a letter from Arthur 
was lying on the table. 


m 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE COLLAPSE. 

“ Thy crowded ports, 

Where rising masts an endless prospect yield, 

AVith labor burn, and echo to the shouts 
Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves 
Ills last adieu, and, loosening every sheet, 

Kesigns the spreading vessel to the wiud.’^ 

The following correspondence has been handed to us 
for publication : 

“ Cowley House, Twickenham, 
July—, 1871. 

“ Mon CHER Mamma,—D octor Ashburton dire me quo 
je ^cris a vous dans Fransais je sais Fransais un pettit et 
ici est un letter a vous dans Fransais mon cher Mamma le 
Pony est trai bien et je sui mon cher Mamma. Voter aim6 
fils, Tom.’’ 

“ Cowley House, Twickenham, 
July—, 1871. 

“ My DEAR Papa, —Tom as 'written Mamma a letter in 
French and Doctor Ashburton says I must Begin to learn 
French too but Tom says it is very dificult and it takes a 
long time to write a Letter with the dixonary and he says 
my dear Papa that we must learn German Too but please 
may I learn German first and you 'wdll give my love to the 
German gentleman who gave us the poney he is very well 
my dear Papa and very fat and round and hard in the 
sides Harry French says if he goes on eeting like that he 
will burst but me and Tom only laughed at him and we 
rode him down to Stanes and back which is a long way and 
I only tumbled off twice but once into the ditch for he 
wanted to eat the Grass and I Pooled at him and slipt over 
is head but I was not much Wet and I went to bed until 
Jane dryed all my close and no one new of it but her. 
Pleese my dear papa how is Auntie Bell, and we send our 
love to her, and to my dear mamma and I am your affex- 
nate son, Jack. 

“ P.S,—All the money you sent as gone away for oats 


OP A PHAETON, 


211 


i.nd beans and bay. Pleese my dear Papa to send a good 
lot more.” 

“- Inn, Oakham, Friday Afternoon, 

“ .... You will see I have slightly departed from 
the route I described in a telegram to Bell. Indeed, I 
find myself so untrammelled in driving this light dog-cart, 
with a powerful little animal that never seems fatigued, 
that I can go anywhere without fearing there "will not be 
accommodation for a pair of liorses and a large party. I 
am sure you must often have been put to straits in securing 
rooms for so many at a small country inn. Probably you 
know the horse I have got—it is the cob that Major Quinet 
brought from Ileathcote. I saw him by the merest accident 
when I returned from Worcester to London—told him 
wdiat I meant to do—he offered me the cob with the great¬ 
est good-nature; and as I knew I should be safer with it 
than anything I could hire, I accepted. You will see I 
have come a good pace. I started on the Tuesday morn¬ 
ing after I saw you at Worcester, and here I am at Oakham, 
rather over ninety miles. To-morrow I hope to be in Not¬ 
tingham, about other thirty. Perhaps, if you will allow 
me, I may strike across country, by Huddersfield and Skip- 
ton, and pay you a visit at Kendal. I hope Bell is well, 
and that you are not having much rain. I have had the 
most delightful weather. Yours, sincerely, 

Artuur Ashburton.” 

“ It is a race,” said the lieutenant, “ who shall bo at 
Carlisle first. 

“ Arthur will beat,” remarked Bell looking to my lady ; 
and although nothing could have been more innocent than 
that observation, it seemed rather to take Von Rosen down 
a bit. He turned to the window and looked out. 

“ I think it was very foolish of Major Quinet to lend 
liim that beautiful little bay cob to go on such an expedi¬ 
tion as that,” said Tita. “ He will ruin it entirely. Fancy 
going thirty miles a day without giving the poor animal a 
day’s rest! Why should he be so anxious to overtake us ? 
If we had particularly wanted him to accompany us, we 
should have asked him to do so.” 

“ He does not propose to accompany you,” I say. “ Ho 
is only coming to pay you a visit.” 

“ I know what that means,” says my lady, with a tiny 



212 


THE STRANGE AH VENTURES 


shrug; “something like the arrival of a mother-in-law, 
with a carriageful of luggage.’’ 

“My dear,” I say to her, “why should you speak scorn¬ 
fully of the amiable and excellent lady who is responsible for 
your bringing-up ? ” 

“I was not speaking of my mamma,” says Tita, “but of 
the abstract mother-in-law.” 

“A man never objects to an abstract mother-in-law. 
Now, your mamma—although she is not to be considered 
as a mother-in-law—” 

“ My mamma never visits me but at my own request,” 
says my lady, with something of loftiness in her manner ; 
“ and I am sorry she makes her visits so short, for when she is 
in the house, I am treated with some show of attention and 
respect.” 

“Well,” I say to her, “ if a mother-in-law cJtn do no 
better than encourage hypocrisy— But I bear no malice. 
I will take some sugar, if you please.” 

“And as for Arthur,” continues Tita, turning to Bel, 
“ what must I say to him ? ” 

“ Only that we shall be pleased to see him, I suppose,” 
is the reply. 

The lieutenant stares out into the streets of Chester, as 
though he did not hear. 

“We cannot ask him to go with us—it would look too 
absurd—a dog-cart trotting after us all the way.” 

“ He might be in front,” says Bell, “ if the cob is so 
good a little animal as he says.” 

“ I wonder how Major Quinet could have been so stupid,” 
says Tita, with a sort of suppressed vexation. 

The reader may remember that a few days ago Major 
Quinet was a white-souled angel of a man to whom my ladj 
had given one of those formal specifications of character 
which she has always at hand when any one is attacked. 
Well, one of the party humbly recalls that circumstance. 
He asks in what way Major Quinet has changed within the 
past two days. Tita looks up, with a sort of quick, 
triumphant glance which tells beforehand that she has a 
reply ready, and says,— 

“ If Major Quinet has committed a fault, it is one of 
generosity. That is an error not common among men— 
especially men who have horses, and who would rather see 
their own wives walk through the mud to the station than 
Let their horses get wet.” 


OF A PHAETON. 




“ Bell, what is good for you when you’re sat upon ? ” 

“ Patience,” says Bell: and then wo go out into the old 
and gray streets of Chester. 

It was curious to notice now the demeanor of our hapless 
lieutenant towards Bell. He had had a whole night to 
think over his position ; and in the morning he seemed to 
have for the first time fully realized the hopelessness of his 
case. He spoke of it—before the women came down—in a 
grave, matter-of-fact way, not making any protestation of 
suffering, but calmly accepting it as a matter for regret. 
One could easily see, however, that a good deal of genuine 
feeling lay behind these brief words. 

Then, when Bell came down he showed her a vast 
amount of studied respect, but spoke to her of one or two 
ordinary matters in a careless tone; as if to assure every¬ 
body that nothing particular had happened. The girl herself 
was not equal to any such effort of amiable hypocrisy. Slie 
agreed with him in a hurried way whenever he made tlio 
most insignificant statement, and showed herself obtrusively 
anxious to take his side when my lady, for example, doubted 
the efficacy of carbolic soap. The lieutenant had no great 
interest in carbolic soap, had never seen it, indeed, until 
that morning; but Bell was so anxious to be kind to liini 
that she defended the compound as if she had been the in¬ 
ventor and patentee of it. 

“ It is very awkward forme,” said the lieutenant, as wo 
were strolling through the quaint thoroughfares. Bell and 
my lady leading the way along the piazzas formed on the 
first floor of the houses ; “ it is very awkward for me to be 
always meeting her, and more especially in a room. And 
she seems to think that she has done me some wrong. That 
is not so. That is quite a mistake. It is a misfortune— 
that is all; and the fault is mine that I did not understand 
sooner. Yet I wish we were again in the phaeton. Then 
there is great life—motion—something to do and think about. 
I cannot bear this doing of nothing.” 

Well, if the lieutenant’s restlessness was to be appeased 
by hard work, he was likely to have enough of it that day; 
for we were shortly to take the horses and phaeton across 
the estuary of the Mersey by one of the Birkenhead ferries ; 
and any one who has engaged in that pleasing operation 
knows the excitement of it. Von Rosen chafed against the 
placid monotony of the Chester streets. The passages 
under the porticos are found to be rather narrow of a for^ 


214 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


noon, when a crowd of women and girls have come out to 
look at the shops, and when the only alternative to waiting 
one’s turn and getting along is to descend ignominiously into 
the thoroughfare below. Now, no stranger who comes to 
Chester would think of walking along an ordinary pavement, 
so long as he can pace through those quaint old galleries that 
are built on the roofs of the ground-row of shops and cellars. 
Tlie lieutenant hung aimlessly about—^just as you may see 
a husband lounging and staring in Regent Street while his 
wife is examining with a deadly interest the milliners’ and 
jewellers’ windows. Bell bought presents for the boys. 
My lady purchased photographs. In fact, we conducted 
ourselves like the honest Briton abroad, who buys a lot of 
useless articles in every town he comes to, chiefly because 
lie has nothing else to do, and may as well seize that op¬ 
portunity of talking to the natives. 

Then our bonny bays were put into the phaeton, and, 
with a great sense of freedom shining on the face of our 
Uhlan, we started once more for the North. Bell was sit¬ 
ting beside me. That had been part of the arrangement. 
But why was she so pensive ? Why this profession of ten¬ 
derness and an extreme interest and kindness ? I had done 
her no injury. 

“ Bell,” 1 say to her, “ have you left all your wdldness 
behind you—buried down at tliefoot of Box Hill, or calmly 
interred under a block of stone up on Mickleham Downs ? 
AVhere be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? 
your flashes of merriment that were wont to set my lady 
frowning at you as if you were an incorrigible Tom-boy*? 
Come, now, touching that ballad of the Bailiff’s Daughter 
—tlie guitar has not been out for a long time—” 

A small gloved hand was gently and furtively laid on 
my arm. There was to be no singing. 

“I think,” said Bell, aloud, “that this is a very pretty 
piece of country to lie between two such big towns as Ches¬ 
ter and Liverpool.” 

The remark was not very profound, but it Was accurate, 
and it served its purpose of pushing away finally that suo-- 
gestioii about the guitar. We were now driving up the 
long neck of land lying between the parallel estuaries of the 
Dee and the Mersey. About Backford, and on by Great 
Sutton and Childer Thornton to Eastham, the drive was 
pleasant enough—the windy day and passing clouds giving 
motion and variety to the undulating pasture-land and the 


OF A PHAETON, 


215 


level fields of the farms. But as we drove carelesslv through 
the green landscape, all of a sudden we saw before us a 
great forest of masts—gray streaks in the midst of the hori¬ 
zon—and behind them a cloud of smoke arising from an im¬ 
mense stretch of houses. We discovered, too, the line of 
the Mersey ; and by and by we could see its banks widen¬ 
ing, until the boats in the bed of the stream would be vaguely 
made out in the distance. 

“ Shall we remain in Liverpool this eveninc: ? ” asks 
Bell. 

“ As you please.” 

Bell had been more eager than any of us to hurry on 
our passage to the North, that we should have abundant 
leisure in the Lake country. But a young lady who finds 
herself in an embarrassing position may imagine that the 
best refuge she can liave in the evening is the theatre. 

“ Pray don’t” says Tita. “ We shall be at Liverpool 
presently, and it would be a great pity to throw away a 
day, when we shall want all the spare time we can get wheu 
we reach Kendal.” 

Kendal! It was the town at which Arthur was to meet 
us. But of course my lady had her way. Since Von Rosen 
chose to sit mute, the decision rested with her; and so the 
driver, being of an equable disposition, and valuing the 
peace of mind of the party far above the respect that ought 
to have been shown to Liverpool, meekly took his orders, 
and sent the horses on. 

But it was a long way to Liverpool, despite Tita’s as¬ 
surances. The appearances of the landscape were deceitful. 
The smoke on the other side of the river secerned to indi¬ 
cate that the city was close at hand ; but we continued to 
roll along the level road without apparently coming one 
whit nearer Birkenhead. We crossed Bromborough Pool. 
We went by Primrose Hill. We drove past the grounds 
apparently surrounding some mansion, only to find the level 
road still stretching on before us. Then there were a few 
cottages. Houses of an unmistakably civic look began to 
appear. Suburban villas with gardens walled in with brick 
studded the roadside. Factories glimmered gray in the dis¬ 
tance. An odor of coal-smoke was perceptible in the air; 
and finally, with a doleful satisfaction, w^e had the wheels 
of the phaeton rattling over a grimy street, and we knew 
we were in Birkenhead. 

There was some excuse for the lieutenant losing his tern- 


216 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


per even if he had not been in rather a gloomy mood, to 
begin with. The arrangements for the transference of car¬ 
riage-horses across the Mersey are of a nebulous description. 
When we drove down the narrow passage to Tranmero 
Ferry, the only official we could secure was a hulking lout 
of a fellow of decidedly hangdog aspect. Von Rosen asked 
liim, civilly enough, if there was any one about wlio could 
take the horses out, and superintend the placing of them 
and the phaeton in the ferry. There was no such person. 
Our friend in moleskin hinted in a surly fashion that the 
lieutenant might do it for himself. But he would help, he 
said ; and therewith he growled something about being paid 
for his trouble. I began to fear for the safety of that man. 
The river is deep just close by. 

Bell and Tita had to be got out, and tickets taken for 
the party and for the horses and phaeton. When I returned, 
the lieutenant, with rather a firm-set mouth, was himself 
taking the horses out, while the loafer in moleskin stood at 
some little distance, scowling and muttering scornful obser¬ 
vations at the same time. 

“ Ila! have you got the tickets?” said our Uhlan. 
“ That is very good. We shall do so by ourselves. Can 
you get out the nose-bags, that we shall pacify them on go¬ 
ing across ? I have told this fellow if he comes near to the 
liorses, if he speaks one word to me, he will be in the river 
the next moment; and that is quite sure as I am alive.” 

But there was no one who could keep the horses quiet 
like Bell. When they were taken down the little pier, she 
walked by their heads, and spoke to them, and stroked their 
noses; and then she swiftly got on board the steamer to re¬ 
ceive them. The lieutenant took hold of Pollux. The animal 
had been quiet enough, even with the steamer blowing and 
puffing in front of him; but when he found his hoofs strik¬ 
ing on the board between the pier and the steamer, he threAv 
up his head, and strove to back. The lieutenant held on by 
botli hands. The horse went back another step. It was a 
perilous moment, for there is no railing to the board which 
forms the gangway to those ferry-steamers, and if the animal 
had gone to one side or the other, he and Yon Rosen would 
have been in the water together. But with a “ Hi! hoop 1” 
and a little touch of the whip from behind, the horse sprung 
forward, and was in the boat before he knew. And there 
was Bell at his head, talking in an endearing fasliion to him 


OF A PUAETON, 


217 


as the lieutenant pulled the strap of the nose-hag up; and 
one horse was safe. 

There was less to do with Castor; that prudent animal, 
with his eyes staring wildly around, feeling his way gingerly 
on the sounding-board, but not pausing all the same. Then 
he too had his nose-bag to comfort him ; and when the 
steamer uttered a yell of a whistle through its steam-pipe 
the two horses only started and knocked their hoofs about 
on the deck—for they were very well employed, and Bell 
was standing in front of their heads, talking to them and 
pacifying them. 

Then we steamed slowly out into the broad estuary. A 
strong wind was blowing up channel, and the yellow-brown 
waves were splashing about with here and there a bold dash 
of blue on them from the gusty sky overhead. Far away 
down the Mersey the shipping seemed to be like a cloud 
along the two shores : and out on the wide surface of tl)e 
river were large vessels being tugged about, and mighty 
steamers coming up to the Liverpool piers. When one of 
these bore down upon us so closely that she seemed to 
overlook our little boat, the two horses forgot their corn 
and flung their heads about a bit; but the lieutenant had a 
firm grip of them, and they were eventually quieted. 

He had by this time recovered from his fit of wrath. 
Indeed, he laughed heartily over the matter, and said,— 

“ I am afraid I did give that lounging fellow a great 
fright. He does not understand German, I suppose; but 
the sound of what I said to him had great effect upon him 
—I can assure you of that. He retreated from me hastily. 
It was some time before he could make out what had hap¬ 
pened to him; and then he did not return to the phaeton.” 

The horses bore the landing on the other side very well; 
and with but an occasional tremulous start permitted them¬ 
selves to be put-to on the quay, amidst the roar and confu¬ 
sion of arriving and departing steamers. We were greatly 
helped in this matter by an amiable policeman, who will 
some day, I hope, become colonel and superintendent of the 
Metropolitan Force. 

Werther, amidst all this turmoil, was beginning to for¬ 
get his sorrows. We had a busy time of it. He and Bell 
had been so occupied with the horses in getting them over 
that they had talked almost frankly to each other : and now 
there occurred some continuation of the excitement in the 
difficulties that beset us; for, after we had driven into the 


218 


THE STRANGE ADVENTCTRES 


crowded streets, we found that the large hotels in Liver¬ 
pool have no mews attached to them ; and in our endeavors 
to secure in one place entertainment for both man and 
beast, some considerable portion of our time was consumed. 
At length we found stabling in Hatton Garden ; and then 
we were thrown on the wide world of Liverpool to look after 
our own sustenance. 

“Mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant—rather avoiding 
the direct look of her eyes, however—“ if you would prefer 
to wait, and go to a theatre to-night—” 

“ Oh no, thank you,” said Bell, quite hurriedly, as if she 
were anxious not to have her own wishes consulted ; “ I 
would much rather go on as far as we can to-day.” 

The lieutenant said nothing—how could he ? He was 
but six-and-twenty, or thereabouts, and had not yet dis¬ 
covered a key to the Rosamond’s maze of a woman’s wishes. 

So we went to a restaurant fronting a dull square, and 
dined. We were the only guests. Perhaps it was luncheon ; 
perhaps it was dinner—we had pretty well forgotten the 
difference by this time, and were satisfied if we could get 
something to eat, anywhere, thrice a day. 

But it was only too apparent that the pleasant relations 
with which we had started had been seriously altered. 
There was a distressing politeness prevailing throughout 
this repast, and Bell had so far forgotten her ancient ways 
as to become quite timid and nervously formal in her talk. 
As for my lady, she forgot to say sharp things. Indeed, 
she never does care for a good brisk quarrel, unless there 
are people present ready to enjoy the spectacle. Fighting 
for the mere sake of fighting is a blunder; but fighting in 
the presence of a circle of noble dames and knights becomes 
a courtly tournament. All our old amusements were 
departing; we were like four people met in a London draw¬ 
ing-room ; and, of course, we had not bargained for this 
sort of thing on setting out. It had all arisen from Bell’s 
excessive tenderness of heart. She had possessed herself 
with some wild idea that she had cruelly wronged our 
lieutenant. She strove to make up for this imaginary injury 
by a show of courtesy and kindness that was embarrass¬ 
ing to the whole of us. The fact is, the girl had never been 
trained in the accomplishments of city life. She re¬ 
garded a proposal of marriage as something of consequence. 
There was a defect, too, about her pulsation ; her heart— 
that ought to have gone regularly through the multiplication 


OF A PHAETON’. 


1>19 


table in the course of its beating, and never changed from 
twice one to twelve times twelve—made frantic plunges 
here and there, and slurred over whole columns of figures 
in order to send an anxious and tender flush up to her 
forehead and face. A girl who was so little mistress of 
herself that—on a winter's evening when we happened' to 
talk of the summer-time and of half-forgotten walks near 
Ambleside and Coniston—tears might suddenly be seen to 
well up in her blue eyes, was scarcely fit to take her place 
in a modern drawing-room. At this present moment her 
anxiety, and a sort of odd self-accusation, were really 
spoiling our holiday : but we did not bear our Bell much 
malice. 

It was on this evening that we were destined to make 
our first acquaintance with the alarming method of making 
roads which prevails between Liverpool and Preston. It is 
hard to say by what process of fiendish ingenuity these 
petrified sweetbreads have been placed so as to occasion 
the greatest possible trouble to horses’ hoofs, wheels, and 
human ears; and it is just as hard to say why such roads, 
although they may wear long in the neighborhood of a city 
inviting constant traffic, should be continued out into 
country districts where a cart is met with about once in 
every five miles. Tliese roads do not conduce to talking. 
One thinks of the unfortunate horses, and of the effect on 
springs and wheels. Especially in the quiet of a summer’s 
evening, the frightful rumbling over the wedged-in stones 
seems strangely discordant. And yet, when one gets clear 
of the suburban slums and the smoke of Liverpool, a very 
respectable appearance of real country life becomes visible. 
When you get out to Walton Nurseries and on towards 
Aintree Station and Maghull,^ the landscape looks fairly 
green, and the grass is of a nature to support animal life. 
There is nothing very striking in the scenery, it is true. 
Even the consciousness that away beyond the flats on the 
left the sea is washing over the great sand-banks on to the 
level shores does not help much; for who can pretend to 
hear the whispering of the far-off tide amidst the monot¬ 
onous rattling over these abominable Lancashire stones ? 
We kept our teeth well shut, and went on. We crossed 
the small river of Alt. We whisked through Maghull 
village. The twilight was gathering fast as we got on to 
Aughton, and in the dusk, lighted up by the yellow stars 
of the street-lamps, we drove into Ormskirk. The sun had 


21>0 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


gone down red in the west: we were again assured as to 
the morrow. 

But wdiat would be the good of another briglit morn¬ 
ing to this melancholy Uhlan? Misfortune seemed to have 
marked us for its own. We drove into the yard of what 
was apparently the biggest inn in the place; and while the 
women were sent into the inn, the lieutenant and I hap-' 
pened to remain a little while to look after the horsed. 
Imagine our astonishment, therefore (after the animals had 
been taken out and our luggage uncarted), to find there 
was no accommodation for us inside the building. 

“ Confounded house ! ” growled the lieutenant, in Ger¬ 
man ; “thou hast betrayed me!” 

So there was nothing for it but to leave the phaeton 
where it was, and issue forth in quest of a house in which 
to hide our heads. It was an odd place when we found it. 
A group of women regarded us with a frightened stare. In 
vain we invited them to speak. At length another woman 
—little less alarmed than the others, apparently—made her 
appearance, and signified that we might, if we chose, go 
into a small parlor, smelling consumedly of gin and coarse 
tobacco. After all, we found the place was not so bad as it 
looked. Another chamber was prepared for us. Our lug¬ 
gage was brought around. Ham and beer were provided 
for our final meal, with some tea in a shaky teapot. There 
was nothing romantic in this dingy hostelry, or in this 
dingy little town; but were we not about to reach a more 
favored country—the beautiful and enchanted land of 
which Bell had been dreaming so long ? 

“Kennst du es wolil ? Daliin, dahin, 

Mocht’ icli mit dir, O mien Geliebter, zielin 1 ” 

[ Note by Queen Titania .—“ I confess that I cannot understand 
these young people. On our way from the Fairy Glen back to 
Bettws-y-Coed, Bell told me something of what had occurred; but I 
really could not get from her any proper reason for her having acted so. 
She was much distressed, of course. I forbore to press her, last we 
should have a scene, and I would not hurt the girl’s feelings for the, 
world for she is as dear to me as one of my own children. But she could 
give no explanation. If she had said that Count Von Rosen had been 
too precipitate, I could have understood it. She said she had known 
him a very short time; and that she could not judge of a proposition 
coming so unexpectedly; and that she could not consent to his leaving 
his country and his profession for her sake. These are only such 
objections as every girl uses when she really means that she does not 
wish to marry. I asked her why. She had no objections to urge 


OF A PHAETON. 


221 


against Lieutenant Von Rosen personally—as how cowZtZ she?—for 
he is a most gentlemanly young man, with abilities and accomplish¬ 
ments considerably above the average. Perhaps, living down in the 
country for the greater part of the year, I am not competent to judge; 
but I think at least he compares very favorably with the gentlemen 
whom 1 am in the habit of seeing. I asked her if she meant to marry 
Arthur. She W'ould not answer. She said something about his being 
an old friend—as if that had anything in the world to do loith it. At 
first I thought that she had merely said No for the pleasure of accept¬ 
ing afterward; and I knew that in that case the lieutenant, who is a 
shrewd young man, and has plenty of courage, would soon make 
another trial. But I was amazed to find so much of seriousness in 
lier decision; and yet she will not say that she means to marry Arthur. 
Perhaps she is waiting to have an explanation with him first. In 
that case I fear Count Von Rosen’s chances are but very small indeed; 
for I know how Arthur has wantonly traded on Bell’s great generosity 
before. Perhaps I may be mistaken; but she would not admit that 
her decision could be altered. I must say it is most unfortunate. 
Just as w'c were getting on so nicely and enjoying ourselves so much 
and just as we were getting near to the l.ake country that Bell so 
much delights in, everything is spoiled by'this unhappy event, for 
which Bell can give no adequate reason whatever. It is a great pity 
that one who shall be nameless, but who looks pretty fairly after his 
own comfort, did not absolutely forbid Arthur to come vexing us in 
this way by driving over to our route. If Dr. Ashburton had had any 
[)roper control over the boy, he would have kept him to his studies in 
the Temple, instead of allowing him to risk the breaking of his neck 
by driving wuldly about the country in a dog cart.’’] 


CIIAITEU XIX. 


THE WHITE OWLS OF GAESTANG. 

‘ As she fled fast through sun .and shade, 

'J'he happy winds about her played. 

Blowing the ringlet from the braid: 
bhe looked so lovely as she swayed 
The rein with dainty finger-tips, 

A m.an had given all other bliss. 

And all his worldly wealth for this— 

To waste his whole heart in one kiss 
Upon her perfect lips.” 

This state of affairs could not last. 

“ Look here,” I say to Queen Titania, “ we must cut the 
lieutenant adrift.” 

“ As you please,” she remarks, with a sudden coldnesa 
coming over her luauiicr. 



222 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Why should we be embarrassed by the freaks of these 
two young creatures ? All the sunshine has gone out of the 
party since Bell has begun to sit mute and constrained, her 
only wish apparently being to show a suj)crhuinan courtesy 
to this perplexing young Prussian.” 

“ You very quickly throw over any one who interferes 
with your own comfort,” says my lady, calmly. 

“ I miss my morning ballad. Wlien one reaches a 
certain age, one expects to be studied and tended—except 
by one’s wife.” 

“ Well,” says Tita, driven to desperation by this picture 
of Von Rosen’s departure, “ I warned you at our setting 
out that these two would fall in love with each other and 
cause us a great deal of trouble.” 

Who can say that this little woman is wanting in 
courage ? The audacity with which slie made this state¬ 
ment was marvellous. She never flinched ; and the brown, 
clear, true eyes looked as bravely unconscious as if slie had 
been announcing her faith in the multiplication-table. 
There was no use in arguing the point, flow could you 
seek to thwart or influence the firm belief that shone clearly 
and steadily under the soft eyelashes? 

“ Come,” I say to her, “ is Von Rosen to go ; or is ho 
to hang on in hope of altering Bell’s decision ? E fancy the 
young man would himself prefer to leave us; I don’t think 
he is in a comfortable position.” 

JMy lady appeared a trifle embarrassed. Was there 
some dark secret between these two woman ? 

“ A young man,” she says, with a little hesitation, “ is 
the best judge of his own chances. I have asked Bell: and 
I really can’t quite make her out. Still, you know, a girl 
sometimes is in a manner frightened into saying ‘ No,’ the 
first time she is asked; and there might be-” 

She stopped. 

“ You think the lieutenant should ask again ? ” 

“ No, I don’t,” says Tita, hastily ; “ but it is impossible 
to say—she had nothing to urge against Count Von Rosen 
—only that Arthur would consider himself unjustly 
treated-” 

“ So-ho ! Is that the reason ? ” 

“ No, no, no ! ” cries the small woman, in an agony of 
fright. “ Don’t you go and put any wrong notions into 
the young man’s head-” 

“ Madam,” I say to her, “ recollect yourself. So far 





OF A P/IAETO.V. 


223 


from wishing to interfere in the affairs of tlicse two young 
])Cople, I should like to bundle them both back to London, 
that we might continue our journey in ]ieace. As for the 
lieutenant’s again proposing to marry Bell, I consider that 
a man who twice asks a woman to become his wife forgets 
the dignity of his sex.” 

Tita looked up, with the most beautifully innocent smile 
in her eyes, and says, sweetly,— 

“ You did yourself.” 

“ That was different.” 

“ Yes, 1 dare say.” 

“ I knew your heart would have broken if I hadn’t.” 

“ Oh ! ” she says, with her eyes grown appalled. 

“In fact, it was my native generosity that ])rompted 
me to ask you a second time; for I perceived that you 
were about to ask me.” 

“ How many more ? ” she asks. But I cannot make out 
what mysterious things she is secretly counting up. 

“But no matter. There is little use in recalling those 
by-gone mistakes. Justice is satisfied when a fool rei)ents 
him of his folly.” 

At this moment Bell enters the room. She goes up to 
Tita, and takes both her hands. 

“ Yon are laughing in a perplexed way. You must have 
been quarrelling. What shall we do to him? ” 

“ The falling out of faithful friends is generally made 
up w’ith a kiss, Bell,” it is remarked. 

“ But I am not in the quarrel,” says Miss Bell, retreat¬ 
ing to the window ; and here there is a rumble of wheels 
outside, and the phaeton stands at the door. 

“ You two must get up in front,” says Tita, as we go 
out into the white glare of Ormskirk. “ I can watch you 
better there.” 

“ By this dextrous manoeuvre Bell and the lieutenant 
were again separated. The young lady was never loath to 
sit in front, under whatever surveillance it placed her; for 
she liked driving. On this cool morning—that promised a 
warmer day, after the wind had carried away the white 
fleece of cloud that stretched over the sky—she pulled on 
her gloves with great alacrity, and, having got into her seat, 
assumed the management of the reins as a matter of course. 

“ Gently ! ” I say to her, as Castor and Pollux make a 
plunge forward into the narrow thoroughfare. A hand- 
barrow is jutting out from the pavement. She gives a 


224 


THE STRANGE ABVENTURES 


jerk to the left rein, but it is too late ; one of our wlieels 
just touches the end of tlie barrow, and over it goes—not 
with any great crash, however. 

“ Go on,” says the lieutenant, from behind, with admir¬ 
able coolness. “ There is no harm done ; and there is no 
one in charge of that thing. When he comes, he will j^ick 
it up.” 

“ Very pretty conduct,” remarks my lady, as we get out 
among the green fields and meadows again ; “ injuring some 
poor man’s property, and quietly driving away without even 
offering compensation.” 

“ It was Bell who did it,” I say. 

“As usual. The old story repeated from the days of 
Eden downward. The woman thou gavest me—of course, 
it is she who must bear the blame.” 

“ Madame,” I reply, “ your knowledge of Scripture is 
astounding. Who was the first attorney-general in the 
Bible?” 

“ Find out,” says Tita; and the lieutenant burst into a 
roar of laughter as if that w'ere a pretty repartee. 

“And where do we stop to-night ?” says our North- 
country maid, looking away along the green valley which 
is watered by the pretty Eller Brook. 

“ Garstang, on the river of Wyre.” 

“And to-morrow we shall really be in Westmoreland? ” 

“To-morrow we shall really be in Westmoreland. Wo- 
lio, my beauties ! Why, Bell, if you try to leap across 
Lancashire at a bound like that, you’ll have us in a canal, 
or transfixed on a telegraph post.” 

“ I did not intend it,” says Bell, “ but they arc as anx¬ 
ious as I am to get North, and they break into a gallop on 
no provocation whatever.” 

Indeed, the whole nature of this mad girl seemed to have 
a sort of resemblance to a magnetic needle—it was continu¬ 
ously turning to the North Pole, and that in a tremulous, 
undecided fashion, as if, with all her longing, she did not 
quite like to let people know. But at this moment she for¬ 
got that we were listening. It was rqally herself she was 
delighting with her talk about deep valleys, and brown 
streams, and the scent of peat smoke in the air of an even 
ing. All the time she was looking away up to the horizon, 
to see whether she could not make out some lines of blue 
mountains, until Tita suddenly said,— 

“ My dear ! ” 


OF A PHAETON. 


225 


“ Afeaning me, ma’am?” 

“No, I mean Bell. Pray keep a firmer hand on the 
horses—if a train were to come sharply by at present—and 
you sec the road runs parallel with the railway line for an 
immense distance.” 

“ And should we,” says Bell, lightly. “ Thera is no 
danger. The poor animals wouldn’t do anything wicked at 
such a time, just when they are getting near to a long rest.” 

Under Bell’s guidance we do not lose much time by 
the way. The road leaves the neighborhood of the railway. 
We drive past the great park of Kufford Hall. The wind 
blows across to us from the Irish Sea; and at the small 
village of Much Hoole, where the lieutenant insists on giv¬ 
ing the horses a little meal and water as a sort of soothing 
draught, we come in sight of the long red line of the Kibble, 
widening out into a sandy channel as it nears the ocean. 
Bell catches a glimpse of the smoke of a steamer; and the 
vague knowledge that the plain of salt water is not far 
away seems to refresh us all, as we plunge once more into 
the green and wooded country, by Longton, Hutton, and 
Howick. 

“ What is the greatest wish of your life. Bell ? ” T ask, 
knowing that she is dreaming of living somewhere along 
the coast of these islands. 

“ To see mamma pleased,” says Bell, quite prettily, just 
as if she were before a school-mistress. 

You ask for the impossible. Tita’s dream of earthly 
bliss is to have the cross in our little church turned to a 
crucifix ; and it will never be realized. I think she would 
rather have that than be made a duchess.” 

“I do miss that dear little church,” says Tita, taking 
no heed of the charge preferred against her. “ There is no 
feeling of homeliness about the churches we go into up 
here. You know that you are a stranger, and all the people 
are strangers, and you are not accustomed to the clergy¬ 
man’s voice. 

“ The fact is,” I tell her, “ you lose the sense of pro¬ 
prietorship which pleases you down at home. There the 
church is your own. You set out on a quiet Sunday morn¬ 
ing; you know all the people coming through the fields 
and along the roads, and you have an eye on them, to mark 
the absentee. There is a family gathering in the church¬ 
yard, and a universal shaking of hands : you are pleased 
that all the people are coming to your church. You go 


226 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


in ; the evergreens everywhere about you put there yourself. 
The tall white lilies on the altar you presented to the vicar, 
though I paid for them. Bell sits down to the organ—prob¬ 
ably thinking that her new boots may slip on one of the 
pedals and produce a discord in the bass—and you know 
that your family is providing the music too. The vicar and 
his wife dined with you the night before ; you are in secret 

league with them. You know all the people : Lord-’s 

butler, who is the most venerable person in the place ; that 
squint-eyed publican, who thrashes his wife on the Saturday 
so that she can’t come on the Sunday; all the other various 
pensioners you have, who you vainly think are being taught 
to be independent and economical; and a lot of small boys 
in knickerbockers and shiny heads of hair, and pretty 
young ladies with sailor’s hats, blue ribbons, white jackets, 
and big wistful eyes. You are the presiding genius of the 
}>lacc ; and when Bell begins the music, and the sunliglit 
comes through the small and yellow windows in the south¬ 
ern aisle ; and when you see the light shining on the mural 
tablets, with the colored coats of arms above, you ask your¬ 
self what other place could produce this feeling of homely 
satisfaction, and what fashionable London church , with all 
its money, could manufacture these ancient blocks of marble, 
until you think you could spend all your own money, and 
all your husband’s too, in making the small building a sort 
of ecclesiastical museum.” 

“ I hope,” says Tita, with great severity, “ I do not go 
into church with any such thoughts. It is an auctioneer’s 
view of a morning service.” 

“It is the business of an auctioneer, my dear creature, 
to estimate the actual value of articles. But I forgot one 
thing. After you have contemplated the church Avith pro¬ 
found satisfaction—^just as if those old knights and baronets 
had died in order to adorn the walls for you—your eye 
wanders uj) to the altar. It is a pretty altar-cloth ; good¬ 
ness knows how much time you and Bell spent over it. The 
flowers on the altar are also beautiful, or ought to be, con¬ 
sidering the j)rice that Benson charges for them. But that 
plain gilt cross, with the three jeAvels in it—that is rather a 
blot, is it not?” 

“Why don’t you go to the zinc chapel?” says Tita, 
with some contempt. 

“ I would if I dared.” 

“Who prevents you? I am sure it is not I. I would 



OF A PHAETON’. 


227 


much rather you wcut there than come to churcli merely to 
calculate the cost of every bit of fern or yew that is placed 
on the walls, and to complain of the introduction into tlir 
sermon of doctrines whicli you can’t understand.” 

“ ^[ay I go to chapel, please ? ” 

“Certainly. But you are a good deal fonder of going 
up to jMickleham Downs than to either church or chapel.” 

“ Will you come to chapel, Bell ? ” 

“ I am not going to interfere,” says Boll, with philo¬ 
sophical indifference, and paying much more attention to 
her horses. 

“ I should be sorry to go,” I observe, calmly, “ for I had 
lialf resolved to ask Mr. Lestrange to let me put in yellow 
glass in those two windows that are at present white.” 

“ Oh, will you, really ? ” cries Queen Tita, in a piteously 
eager tone, and quite forgetting all her war of words. 

Well, I promise, somewhat sadly. It is not the cost of 
it that is the matter. But on those Sunday mornings when 
the sunlight is flooding the church with a solemn glow of 
yellow, it is something to turn to the two white windows, 
and there, through the diamond panes, you can see the sun¬ 
light shimmering on the breezy branches of an ash-tree. 
This little glimpse of the bright and glowing world outside, 
when our vicar, who, it must be confessed, is not always in 
a hapj)y mood, happens to be rather drowsy and even de¬ 
pressing in the monotony of his commonplaceness—but 
pcrhajis it will be better to say nothing more on this point. 

Why the people of the flourishing town of Preston do 
not bridge the Kibble in a line running parallel with their 
chief thoroughfare and the road leading up from Ilaru ioh, 
is inexplicable. A pleasure party need not mind, for the 
drive is pleasant enough; but business folks might be 
tempted to use bad language over such an unnecessary in¬ 
jury. The road makes a long double along the two banks 
of the river, the most westerly bridge forming the end of 
the loop. First you drive down the left bank of the stream, 
over fine green meadows ; then you cross the bridge, and 
drive back along the nght bank, between avenues of young 
trees. Perhaps the notion is to give you as much as possi¬ 
ble of the green and jdeasant surroundings of Preston, be¬ 
fore letting you plunge into the streets of the town. 

Now, I do not know how it w^as that from the moment 
of our entering Preston a vague feeling of satisfaction and 
hope seemed to get possession of our small party. Wo 


228 


TITE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


had started in the morning under somewhat embarrassing 
and awkward conditions, not likely to provoke high spirits; 
but now we seemed to have a nebulous impression tliat the 
end of our troubles had come. AVas it because we ha‘l 
reached the last of the large manufacturing towns on our 
journey, and that wo should meet with no more of them? 
Or was it because of that promise to Queen Titania ? for 
that kindly little woman, when she is pleased, has a wonder¬ 
ful power of conveying her gladness to others, and Las been 
known to sweeten a heavy dinner-party as a bunch of wood¬ 
ruff will sweeten a lumber-room. Or was it that we knew', 
in ajjproaching Kendal, we should probably come to a final 
settlement of all our difficulties, and have thereafter peace? 

As w'c were w'alking, after luncheon, through the spa¬ 
cious public gardens that overlook the Kibble, the lieutenant 
drew me aside, and said,— 

“ JNIy good friend, here is a favor I will ask of you. 
We come to-night to Garstang, yes ? ” 

“ Yes we shall reach Garstang to-night.” 

“A tow'll or a village.” 

“ I don’t know'. Probably a village.” 

“I did hope it w'as not a tow'n. Well, this is what I 
ask. You will endeavor to take away madame for a few 
moments—if w'e are out walking, you will let me say a few 
W'ords to mademoiselle by herself” 

“ I thought all your anxiety was to avoid her.* 

“ There is something I must say to her.” 

“All right; I will do what you ask, on condition you 
do not persecute her. AVhen she wishes to rejoin us, you 
must not prevent her.” 

“ Persecute her ? Then you do think I will quarrel 
with her, and make her very miserable, merely because she 
w'ill not marry me? You think it W'ill be as it was at 
AYorcester, when that stupid boy from Tw'ickenham did 
go along the river? AVell, all I ask you is to look at these 
Iw'o days. lias there been any quarrel betw'ccn us? Ko, 
it is (piito the opposite.” 

“ Then let it remain that way, my dear fellow’. One 
Arthur is bad enough for a girl to manage ; but two would 
probably send her into a convent for life.” 

‘ And the truth was as the lieutenant had described it. 
They had been during these tw'o days more than polite to 
each other. Somehow', Bell w'as never done in paying him 
furtive little attentions, although she spoke to him rarely. 


OF A PI/AETO.V, 


2-29 


That morning she had somewhere got a few wild flowers; 
and three tiny bouquets were placed on the breakfast*tablo. 
The lieutenant dared not think tliat one of them was for 
him. lie apologized to mademoiselle for taking her seat. 
Bell said he had not—the bouquet was for him if ho cared 
to have it, she added with a little diflidence. The lieutenant 
])Ositively blushed, said nothing, and altogether neglected 
his own breakfast in offering her things she did not Avant. 
d'he bouquets given to Tita and her husband were pinned 
into prominent positions; but no human eye saw anything 
more of the wild blossoms that Bell had given to Von Rosen. 
Betting on a certainty is considered dishonorable; and so 
I Avill not say Avhat odds I Avould give that these precious 
flowers were transferred to a book, and that at this moment 
they could be produced if a certain young man Avere only 
Avilling to reveal their Avhereabouts. 

Everything seemed to fa\'or us on this fine afternoon as 
Avc drove away northAvard again. The road grew excellent, 
and Ave kncAv that we had finally left behind us that deafen¬ 
ing causcAvay that had dinned our ears for days past. Then 
the cool breeze of the forenoon and midday had died doAvn, 
and a still, Avarm sunset began to break over the Avestern 
country, betAveen us and the sea. AVe could not, of course 
get any glimpse of the great plain of water beyond the land ; 
but Ave know that this great fire of crimson and yellow Avas 
shining doAvn on it too, and on the long curves of the shore. 

The Avestern sands could not be much more level than 
tlie road that runs up by Broughton and Brockbridge, but 
it takes one through a sufliciently 2)leasant country, whicli 
is watered by a multitude of brooks and small rivers. It is 
a rich and Avell-cultivated country, too; and the far-stretch¬ 
ing meadoAvs and coj)ses and fields seemed to grow darker 
in tlieir green under that smoke of dusky crimson that had 
filled the sky. It is true, Ave were still in Lancashire, and 
there was still present to us a double line of communication 
Avith the manufacturing towns wo had noAV left behind. 
At certain places the road Avould run by the side of a rail- 
Avay-line, and then again we would find a canal Avinding 
itself like a snake through the grassy meadoAvs. But a sun¬ 
set is a Avonderful smoother-down of these artificial features 
in a landscape ; and Avhen the earth banks of the raihvay- 
line burned crimson under the darkening sky, or when an 
arm of the canal caught a flush of flame on its glassy surface, 


230 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


the picture was rather helped than otherwise, and we bore 
the engineers of this favored land no deadly grudge. 

A sunset, by the way, was always favorable to Bcirs 
appearance. It lent to those fine and wavy masses of hair 
a sort of glory; and the splendid aureole was about all of 
his sweetheart that the lieutenant could see, as he sat in 
the hind seat of the phaeton. Bell wears her hair rather 
loose when she is out in the country, and greatly likes, in¬ 
deed, to toss it about as if she were a young lion ; so that 
you may fancy how the warm light of the sunset glowed 
here and there on those light and silken heaps of golden- 
brown as we drove along in the quiet evening. Sometimes, 
indeed, he may have caught the outline of her face as she 
turned to look over the far landscape; and then, I know, 
the delicate oval was tinted by the generous color of the 
western skies, so that not alone in the miracle of her haij 
did she look like some transfigured saint. 

Her talk on this evening, however, was far from saintly 
It was as worldly as it well could be; for she was confess¬ 
ing to the agony she used to suffer aher going home from 
dinner-parties, balls, and other godless diversions of a like 
nature. 

“ I used to dread going up to my room,” she said, “ for 
I could get no rest until I had sat down and gone over 
everything that I had said during the evening. And then 
all the consequences of my imprudence came rushing down 
on me, until I felt I was scarcely fit to live. What you had 
been led into saying as a mere piece of merriment now 
looked terribly like impertinence. ]\Iany a time I wrote 
down on a piece of paper, certain things that I resolved to 
go the next day and make an apology for to the old ladies 
wdiom I am sure I had offended. But the next morning, 
things began to look a little better. A little reassurance 
came with the briskness of the day; and I used to con¬ 
vince myself that nobody would remember the heedless say¬ 
ings that had been provoked by the general light talk and 
merriment. I absolved myself for that day ; and promised, 
and vowed, and made the most desperate resolutions never, 
never to be thoughtless in the future, but always to watch 
every word I had to say.” 

“ And in the evening,” continued my lady, “ you went 
out to another dance, and enjoyed yourself the same, and 
said as many wild things as usual, and went home again to 
do penance. It is quite natural. Bell. Most girls go 


OF A PHAETON-. 


t>31 

through that terrible half-hour of reaction, until they grow 
to be women— 

“ And then,” it is remarked, “ they have never any¬ 
thing to be sorry about; for they are always circumspect, 
self-possessed, and sure about what they mean to say. 
They never have to spend a dreadful half-hour in trying to 
recollect mistakes and follies.” 

“As for gentlemen,” remarked Titania, sweetly, “I 
have lieard that their evil half-hour is during the process 
of dressing, when they endeavor to recall the speech they 
made at the public dinner of the night before, and wonder 
how they could have been so stupid as to order a lot of 
Chatnpagne to oblige a friend just gone into that business, 
and are not very sure how many people they invited to 
dinner on the following Friday. Count Von llosen—” 

“ Yes, madarne.” 

“ When you observe a husband whistling while his wife 
is talking, what do you think? ” 

“ That she is saying something he would rather not 
hear,” replies the lieutenant, gravely. 

“And is not that a confession that what she says is 
true ? ” 

“ Yes, madarne,” says the lieutenant, boldly. 

“ My dear,” I say to her, “ your brain has been turned 
by the last sporting novel you have read. You are a victim 
of cerebral intlammation. When you pride yourself on 
your researches into the ways and habits of the sex which 
you affect to despise, don’t take that sort of farthing-candle 
to guide you. As for myself, our young friend from Prussia 
would scarcely credit the time I spend in helping you to 
nail up brackens and larch and ivy in that wretched little 
church ; and if he knew the trouble I have to keep Bell’s 
accounts straight—when she is reckoning up what the pro¬ 
cess of producing paupers in our neighborhood costs us— 
why, he would look upon you as an unprincipled calumnia¬ 
tor.” 

“Mamma herself is scarcely so big as those two words 
put together,” says Bell; but mammals laughing all this 
time, quite pleased to see that she has raised a storm in a 
tea-cup by her ungracious and unwarranted assault. 

In the last red rays of the sun we have got on to a 
email elevation. Before us the road dips down and crosses 
the canal; then it makes a twist again and crosses the 
Wyre; and up in that corner are the scattered gables of 


THE STRANGE ADVENl'URES 


Garstang. As we pass over tlie river it is running cold and 
dark between its green banks; and tlie sunset is finally 
drawing down to the west as we drive into the silent 
village, and up to the door-step of The Koyal Oak. 

’Tis a quaint and ancient liosteliy. For aught we know, 
the Earl of Derby’s soldiers may have walked over hitlier 
for a draught of beer when they 'were garrisoning Green- 
halgh Castle over there; and when the brave countess, away 
down at Latham, was herself fixing up the royal standard 
on the tower of the castle, as Mr. Leslie’s picture shows us, 
and bidding defiance to the Parliamentary troops. Wlieii 
you tell that story to Queen Titania, you (;an see her gentle 
face grow ])ale wdth pride ond admiration ; for did not tlie 
gallant countess send out w’ord to Fairfax that she would 
defend the place until she lost her honor or her life, for that 
she had not forgotten what she owed to the Church of En¬ 
gland, to lier prince, and to her lord ? My lady looks as if 
she, too, could have sent that message; only tliat she would 
have sto])ped at the Church of England, and gone no far¬ 
ther. 

When w'c come out again, the sunset has gone, and a 
W'Onderful pale-green twilight lies over the land. We go 
forth from the old-fashioned streets, and find ourselves by 
the banks of the clear running river. A pale metallic light 
shines along its surface; and as we walk along between 
the meadows and tlie picturesque banks—where there is an 
abundance of the mighty burdock-leaves that are beloved of 
painters—an occasional sjilash is heard, whether of a rat or a 
trout, no one can say. Somehow the lieutenant has drawn 
Bell away from us. In the clear twdlight we can see their 
figures sharp and black on the dark-green slope beside the 
stream. Queen Tita looks rather wistfully at them ; and is, 
perhaps, thinking of days long gone by when she too knew the 
value of silence on a beautiful evening, by the side of a 
river. 

“ I hope it is not wrong,” says my lady, in a low voice, 
“ but I confess I should like to see the lieutenant marry our 
Bell.” 

‘‘ Wrong? No. It is only the absent who are in the 
wrong—Arthur, for example, who is perhaps at Kendal, at 
this moment, waiting for us.” 

“ We cannot all be satisfied in this world,” remarks Tita, 
profoundly ; “and as one of these two alone can marry Bell. 
1 do hope it may be the lieutenant, in spite of what she says 


OF A PI/AETON. 


233 


I ihink it would be very ]deasant for all of ns. What nice 
neiglibors tliey would be for us! for I know Bell would pre- 
fere to live down near us in Surrey, and the lieutenant can 
have no particuliar ]n*eference for any place in England.” 

“ A nice holiday-time we should have of it, with these 
two idle creatures living close by and making continual pro¬ 
posals to go away somewhere.” 

“ Bell would not bo idle.” 

“ She must give up her painting if she marries.” 

She won't give it up altogether, I hope ; and, then, there 
is her music, even if she had no household duties to occupy 
her time; and I know she will make an active and thrifty 
housewife. Indeed, the only idler will be the lieutenant, and 
lie can become a captain of Volunteers.” 

And yet she says she never lays ]»lans! that she has no 
Avish to interfere between Arthur and Von Rosen ! that she 
would rather see Bell relieved fi-orn the persecutions of both 
of them ! She had already mapped out the whole affair: and 
her content was so groat that a beautiful gladness and soft¬ 
ness lay in her eyes, and she began to prattle about the two 
boys at school, and all she meant to take home to them ; 
and, indeed, if she had been at home, she would have gone 
to the piano and sung to herself some low and gentle melody, 
as soft and as musical as the crooning of a wood-pigcoii 
hid<len away among trees. 

Then she said, “How odd that Bell should have begun 
to talk about these unfortunate slii)S of the tongue that haunt 
you afterwards ! All these two days I haven’t been able to 
get rid of the remembrance of that terrible mistake I made 
in s])eakingof Count Von Rosen and Bell as already married. 
But who knows ? there may be a IVovidence in such 
things.” 

“The Providence that lies in blunders of speccli must 
be rather erratic ; but it is no wonder you s])oke by mis¬ 
chance of Bell’s marrying the lieutenant, for you think of 
nothing else.” 

“But don’t yon think it Avould be a very good thing?” 

“ What 1 think of it is a different matter. What will 
Arthur think of it ? ” 

“ The whole world can’t be expected to move round 
merely to i>lease Arthur,” says my lady, Avith some asperity, 
“ The fact is, those young men are so foolish that they never 
reflect that a girl can’t marry two of them. They are always 
falling in love Avith a girl who has a suitor already, and 


234 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


then she is put to the annoyance of refusing one of them, 
and that one considers her a monster." 

“ Well, if any one is open to that charge in the j)resent 
case, it certainly is not Arthur." 

IMy lady did not answer. She was regarding with a 
tender glance those two young folks strolling through the 
meadows before us. What were they saying to each other? 
Would Bell relent ? The time was propitious—in the quiet 
of this pale, clear evening, with a star or two beginning to 
twinkle, and the moon about to creep up from behind the 
eastern woods. It was a time for lovers to make confes¬ 
sions, and give tender pledges. None of us seemed to 
think of that wretched youth who was blindly driving 
through England in a dog cart, and torturing himself in the 
horrible solitude of inns. Unha))py Arthur ! 

For mere courtesy’s sake, these two drew near to us 
again. We looked at them. Bell turned her face away, 
and stooped to pick up the white blossom of a campion that 
lay like a great glowworm among the dark herbage. The 
lieutenant seemed a little more confident, and he was 
anxious to be very courteous and friendly towards Tita. 
The lady was quite demure, and suggested that we might 
return to the village. 

We clambered up a steep place that led from the hollow 
of the river to a higher plain, and here we found ourselves 
by the side of the canal. It looked like another river. 
There were grassy borders to it, and by the side of the j)ath 
a deep wood descending to the fields beyond. Tlie moon 
liad now arisen, and, on the clear, still water, tiiere were 
some ri])plcs of gold. Far away, on the other side, the 
barns and haystacks of a farmhouse were visible in the 
]>ale glow of the sky. 

“What is that?" said Tita, liurriedly, as a large white 
object sailed silently througli the faint moonlight and 
swept into the wood. 

Only an owl. But the sound of her voice liad disturbed 
several of the great birds in the trees, and across the space 
between the wood and the distant farmhouse they fled 
noiselessly, with a brief reflection of their broad wings fall¬ 
ing on the still waters as they passed. We remained there 
an unconscionable time, leaning on the stone parapet of the 
bridge, and watching the pale line of the canal, the ripjdes 
of the moonlight, the dark wood, and the .great and dusky 
birds that floated about like ghosts in the perfect stillness. 


O/" A PHAETON'. 


235 


When we returned to Gurstang, the broad square in th« 
centre of the place was glimmering gray in the moonlight, 
and black shadows had fallen along one side of the street. 

“ My dear friend,” said Von Kosen, in an excited and 
urgent way, as soon as our two companions had gone up¬ 
stairs to pre[)are for supper, “ I have great news to tell 
you.” 

“ Bell has accepted you, I suppose,” said I—the boy 
talking as if that were a remarkable phenomenon in the 
world’s history. 

“ Oh, no, nothing so good as that—nothing not near so 
good as that; but something very good indeed. It is not 
all finally disposed of—there is at least a little chance—one 
must wait; but is not this a very great ho})e? ” 

“ And is that all you obtained by your hour’s per¬ 
suasion ? ” 

“ Bfui! You do talk as if it did not matter to a young 
girl whether she marries one man or marries another.” 

“ I don’t think it much matters really.” 

“ Then this is what I tell you-” 

But here some light footsteps were heard on the stairs, 
and the lieutenant suddenly ceased, and rushed to open the 
door. 

Bell was as rosy as a rose set amidst green leaves when 
she entered, followed by Tita. 

“ We are very late,” said the girl, as if she were rather 
afraid to hazard that startling and profound observation. 

“Madame,” said the lieutenant, “1 give you my word 
this is the best ale we have drunk since we started ; it is 
clear, bright, very bitter, brisk; it is worth a long journey 
to drink such ale; and 1 hope your husband, when he writes 
of our journey, will give our landlady great credit for this 
very good beer.” 

I do so willingly; but lest any ingenuous traveller should 
find the ale of The Royal Oak not quite fulfil the ex})ecta- 
tions raised by this panegric, I must remind him that it was 
pronounced after the lieutenant had been walking for an 
hour along the banks of the Wyre, on a beautiful evening, 
in the company of a very pretty young lady. 

We had abolished bezique by this time. It had become 
too much of a farce. Playing four-handed bezique with 
partners is a clumsy contrivance; and when we had endeav¬ 
ored to play it independently, the audacity of the lieutenant 
in sacrificing the game to Bell’s interests had got beyond a 



236 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


joke. So we had fallen back on whist; and as we made 
those two ardent young noodles partners, they did their 
best. It wasn’t very good, to tell the truth. The lieutenant 
w^as as bad a whist-player as ever perplexed a partner; but 
Bell could play a weak suit as well as another. My lady 
was rather pleased to find that the lieutenant was not a 
skilful card-player. She Avas deeply interested in the 
qualities of the young man whom she regarded in a pre¬ 
mature fashion as Bell’s future husband. In fact, if she had 
only known how, she would have examined the young fel¬ 
lows who came about the house (Bell has had a pretty fair 
show’ of suitors in her time) as to the condition of the inner 
side of the thumb. It is a bad sign wdicn that portion of 
the hand gets rather horny. A man might as well go about 
■with a piece of chalk, marked “ Thurston & Co.,” in his 
waistcoat-j)ocket. But the lieutenant scarcely knew the 
diHeronce betw^een a cue and a pump-handle. 

\Ye played late. The people of the inn, yielding to our 
entreaties, had long ago gone to bed. When at length my 
lady and Bell also retired, the lieutenant rose from the 
table, stretched himself up his full length, and said,— 

“ My good friend, I have much of a favor to ask from 
you. I w’ill repay you for it many times again—I wdll sit 
up with you and smoko all night as often as you please, 
which I think is your great notion of enjoyment. But now 
I have a great many things to tell you, and the room is 
close. Let us go awmy for a walk.” 

It was only the strong nervous excitement of the young 
man that was longing for this outburst into the freedom of 
the cool air. He w’ould have liked, then, to have started 
off at a rate of five miles an hour, and walked himself dead 
Avith fatigue, lie was so anxious about it that at last we 
took a candle to the front door, got the bolts undone, and 
then, leaving the candle and the matches where w’O knew 
we should find them, wo went out into the night. 

By this time the moon had got w’ell down in the south- 
Avest; but there Avas still sufiicient light to show us the 
cottages, the roads, and the trees. The night air Avas fresh 
and cool. As we started off on our vague ramble, a cock 
crewq and the sound seemed to startle the deep sleep of the 
hmdscape. Wo crossed over the canal-bridge and plunged 
bohlly out into the still country, Avhither Ave knew not. 

Then he told me all the story; beginning Avith the 
haii-forgotten legend of Freulein Fallerslebcn. I had had 


OF A PHAETON, 


2^7 


no idea that tliis practical and hard-headed young Uhlan 
had been so deeply struck on either occasion ; but now at 
times there seemed to bo a wild cry of ignorance in his 
confessions, as if ho knew not what had happened to him, 
and what great mystery of life he was battling with. IIo 
described it as resembling somehow the unutterable sadness 
caused by the sudden coming of the spring—when, amidst 
all the glory and wonder and delight of this new thing, a 
vague unrest and longing takes possession of the heart, and 
will not be satisfied. All his life had been changed since 
liis coming to England—turned in another direction, and 
made to depend, for any value that might bo left in it, on a 
single chance. When he spoke of Bell perhaps marrying 
him, all the wild and beautiful possibilities of the future 
seemed to stretch out before him, until he was fairly at a 
loss for words. When he spoke of her finally going away 
from him, it was as of something he could not quite under¬ 
stand. It would alter all his life—how, he did not know ; 
and the new and wonderful consciousness that by such a 
circumstance the Avorld would grow all different to him 
seemed to him a mystery beyond explication. He only 
knew that this strange thing had occurred ; that it ha<l 
brought home to him once more the old puzzles about life 
that had made him wonder as a boy; that ho was drifting 
on to an irrevocable fate, now that the final decision was 
near. 

He talked rapidly, earnestly, heeding little the blunders 
and repetitions into which he constantly fell; and not all 
the vesuvians in the world could have kept his cigar alight. 
I Fe did not walk very fast, but he cut at the weeds and at 
the hedges with his stick, and doubtless startled with his 
blows many a si)arrow and wren sleeping peacefully 
among the leaves. I cannot tell you a tithe of what ho 
said. The story seemed as inexhaustible as the nebulous 
mystery that he was obviously trying to resolve as it hung 
around him in im])alpable folds. When he came to the 
actual question wlkcther Bell had given him to understand 
that she might reconsider her decision, he was more 
reticent. He would not reveal what she had said. But 
there was no pride or self-looking in the anxiety about the 
result which he frankly expressed ; and it is probable that 
if Bell had heard him then, she would have learned more 
of his nature and sentiments than during any hour’s stroll 
under the supervision of her guardians. 


238 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


When at length we turned, a shock of wonder struck 
upon our eyes. The day had begun to break in the east, 
and a cold wind was stirring. As yet, there was only a 
faint light in the dark sky; but by and by a strange, clear 
whiteness rose up from behind the still landscape, and then 
a wild, cold, yellow radiance, against which the tall poplars 
looked intensely black, overspread the far regions of the 
east. Wan and unearthly seemed that metallic glare, even 
when a pale glimmer of red ran up and through it; and, as 
yet, it looked like the sunrise of some other world, for 
neither man nor beast were awake to greet it; and all the 
woods were as silent as a grave. When we got back to 
Garstang, the wind came cliill along the gray stones, the 
birds were singing, and the glow of the sunrise was cree})- 
ing over the chimneys and slates of the sleeping houses. 
We left this wonderful light outside, plunged into the warm 
and gloomy passage of the inn, and presently tumbled, 
tired and shivering, into bed. 


CHAPTER XX. 

culoe’s garland. 

The pride of every grove I chose, 

The violet sweet and lily fair, 

The dappled pink and blushing rose, 

To deck my charming Chloe’s hair. 

** At morn the nymph vouchsafed to place 
Upon her brow the various wreath; 

The flowers less blooming than her face. 

The scent less frageaut than her breath 

“ The flowers she wore along the day, 

And every nymph and shepherd salil, 

That in her hair they looked more gay 
Than glowing in their native bed.” 

Is there any blue half so pure, and deep, and tender as 
that of the large cranesbill, the Geranium pratense of the 
botanists ? When Bell saw the beautiful, rich-colored 
blossoms in the tall hedge-rows, she declared wo were 



OF A PHAETON, 


239 


already in tlie North Country, and must needs descend 
from the phaeton to gather some of the wild flowers ; and 
lo ! all around there was such a profusion that she stood 
bexyildered before them. Everywhere about were the 
white stars of the stitch wort glimmering among the green 
of tlie goose-grass. The clear red blossoms of the campion 
slione here and there; and the viscid petals of the ragged- 
robin glimmered a briglit crimson as they straggled through 
the thorny brandies of the liawthorn. Here, too was the 
beautiful harebell—the real “ bluebell of Scotland ”—with 
its slender stem and its pellucid color; and here was its 
bigger and coarser relative, the great hedge campanula, 
with its massive bells of azure, and its succulent stalk. 
There were yellow masses of snapdragon ; and an abun¬ 
dance of wdiite and pink roses sweetening the air; and all 
the thousand wonders of a luxuriant vegetation. The lieu¬ 
tenant immediately jumped down. He harried the hedges 
as if they had been a province of the enemy’s country, and 
he in quest of forage and food. The delight of Bell in 
these wild flowers was extravagant, and when he had 
gathered for her every variety of hue that he could see, she 
chose a few of the blossoms and twisted them, with a laugh 
of light pleasure, into the breezy masses of her hair. Could 
a greater compliment have been paid him? 

If it was not really the North Country which Bell so 
longed to enter, it was on the confines of it, and already 
many premonitory signs were visible. These tall hedge¬ 
rows, with their profusion of wild flowers, were a wonder. 
We crossed dark-brown streams, the picturesque banks of 
which were smothered in every sort of bush and herb and 
plant. At last, a breath of the morning air brings us a 
strange, new scent, that is far more grateful than that of 
any wreath of flowers, and at the same moment both Bell 
and Tita call out, 

“ Oh, there is the peat-smoke at last! ” 

Peat-smoke it is, and presently we come upon the 
cottages whicdi are sending abroad this fragrance into the 
air. They .are hidden down in a dell by the side of a small 
river, and they are surrounded by low and thick elder-trees. 
Bell is driving. She will not even stop to look at this 
picturesque little nook : it is but an outpost, and the 
promised land is nigh. 

The d.ay, me.anwhile, is gray and showery; but some¬ 
times a sudden burst of sunshine springs down on the far, 


240 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


flat landscape, and causes it to shine in the distance. We 
pass by many a stately hall and noble park—Boll, with the 
wild flowers in her hair, still driving until we reach the top 
of a certain height, and find a great prospect lying before 
us. The windy day has cleared away the light clouds in 
the west; and there, under a belt of blue sky, lies a glimmer 
of the sea. The plain of the landscape leading down to it 
is divided by the estuary of the Lune; and as you trace 
the course of a river up througli the country that lies gray 
under the gray portion of the heavens, some tall buildings 
are seen in the distance, and a fortress upon a height 
resembling some smaller Edinburgh Castle- We drive on 
through the gusty day—the tail of a shower sometimes 
overtaking us from the south and causing a hurried clamor 
for waterproofs, which have immediately to be set aside as 
the sun bursts forth again, and then we drive into a 
clean, bright, picturesque town, and find ourselves in front 
of The King’s Arms at Lancaster. 

Bell has taken the flowers from her hair in nearing the 
abodes of men; but she has placed them tenderly by the 
side of the bouquet that the lieutenant gathered for her, 
and now she gently asks a w^aiter for a tumbler of water, 
into which the blossoms are put. The lieutenant watches 
her every movement as anxiously as ever a Jionian watched 
the skimmings and dippings of the bird whose flight was 
to predict ruin or fortune to him. lie had no opportuni¬ 
ties to lose. Time was pressing on. That night we were 
to reach Kendal j and there the enemy was lying in wait. 

Bell, at least, did not seem much to fear that meeting 
with Arthur. When she spoke of him to Tita, she was 
grave and thoughtful; but when she spoke of Westmore¬ 
land, there was no qualification of her unbounded hope 
and delight. She would scarce look at Lancaster; al¬ 
though, when we went up to the castle, and had a walk 
round to admire the magnificent view from the walls, an 
unwonted stir in front of the great gate told us that some¬ 
thing unusual had happened. The lieutenant went down, 
and mixed wdth the crowd. We saw him—a head and 
shoulders taller than the assemblage of men and women— 
speaking now to one and now to another; and then at 
length he came back. 

J\Iadame,” he says, “ there is something wonderful to 
be seen in the eastle. All these people are pressing to get 


OF A PHAETON, 


2^1 


Is it some soup-plate of Henry the Eighth that has been 
disinterred?” she asks, with a slight show of scorn. In¬ 
deed, she seldom loses an opportunity of sticking another 
needle into her mental image of that poor monarch. 

“ Oh no, it is something much more interesting. It is a 
murderer.” 

“A murderer! ” 

“ Yes, mad ame, but you need not feel alarmed. He is 
caged—he will not bite. All these good people are going 
in to look at him. ” 

“ I would not look at the horrid creature for worlds. ” 

“ He is not a monster of iniquity,” I tell her. “ On the 
contrary, he is a harmless creature, and deserves your pity. 
All he did was to kill his wife.” 

“ And I suppose they will punish him with three 
months’imprisonment,” says Queen Tita; “whereas they 
would give him seven years if he had stolen a purse with 
half a crown in it.” 

“Naturally. I consider three months a great deal too 
much, however. Doubtless she contradicted 1dm.” 

“ But it is not true, Tita,” says Bell; “ none of us knew 
that the murderer was in the castle until this moment. 
How can you believe that ho killed his wife ? ” 

“ There may be a secret sympathy between these two,” 
says my lady, with a demure laugh in her eyes, “ which estab¬ 
lishes a communication between them which we don’t un¬ 
derstand. You know the theory of brain-waves. But it 
is hard that the one should be within the prison and the 
other without.” 

“ Yes, it’s very hard for the one without. The one in¬ 
side the prison has got rid of his torment, and escaped into 
comparative quiet.” 

Sheds a dutiful wife. She never retorts—when she 
hasn’t a retort ready. She takes my arm just as if noth¬ 
ing had happened, and we go down from the castle square 
into the town. And behold! as we enter the gray 
thoroughfare, a wonderful sight comes into view. Down the 
far white street, where occasional glimpses of sunlight are 
blown across by the wind, a gorgeous procession is seen to 
advance, glittering in silver, and colored plumes, and all 
the j)omi) and circumstance of a tournament. There is a 
cry of amazement throughout Lancaster; and from all 
points of the compass people hurry u]). It is just two; 
and men from the factories, flocking out for their dinner, 


242 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


stand amazed on the pavement. The procession comes 
along through the shadow and the sunlight like some gleam¬ 
ing and gigantic serpent with scales of silver and gold. 
Tliere are noble knights, dressed in complete armor, and 
seated on splendid chargers. They bring with them spears, 
and banners, and other accessories of Avar, and their horses 
are shining with the magnificence of their trappings. 
There are ladies Avearing the historical costumes Avhich are 
familiar to us in picture-galleries, and they are seated on 
cream-white palfreys, with flowing manes, and tails that 
sweep the ground. Then a resplendent ])alanquin appears 
in vieAV, doAvn by six yellow horses, and waving and trem¬ 
bling Avdth plumes of })ink and Avdiite. Inside this great and 
gilded carriage the Queen of Beauty sits enthroned, at¬ 
tended by ladies Avhose trains of silk and satin shine like 
the neck of a dove. And the while our eyes are still daz¬ 
zled Avith the glory of this slowly passing pageant, the end 
of it appears in the shape of a smart and natty little trap, 
driven by the pro]>rietor of the circus in plain clothes. 
The anticlimax is too much. The croAvd regard this 
Avretched fellow Avith disdain. When a historical play is 
produced, and Ave are introduced to the majesty of AV'ar, 
and even shoAvn the king’s tent on the battlefield, the com¬ 
mon sutler is hidden out of sight. This Avretched man’s 
obtrusion of himself was properly resented; for the spec¬ 
tacle of the brilliant procession coming along the gray and 
Avhite thoroughfares, Avith a breezy sky overshadoAving or 
lighting it up, Avas sufficiently imposing, and ought not to 
have been destroyed by the A'anity of a person in plain 
clothes Avho wanted to let us knoAv that he AAms the OAvner 
of all this splendor, and Avho thought he ought to come 
last, as Noah did on going into the ark. 

“ Gallop apace, you licry-footcd steeds ! ** That Avas 
the wish I kneAV lay deep doAvn in Bell’s heart as avo went 
aAvay from Lancaster. If Castor and Pollux did their Avork 
gallantly, Ave should sleep to-night in Kendal, and there¬ 
after there Avould be abundant rest. This last day’s jour¬ 
ney consisted of thirty-three miles—considerably aboA’e our 
average day’s distance—and Ave had accordingly cut it up 
into three jiortions. Prom G.arstang to Lancaster is eleven 
miles; froni Lancaster to Burton is eleven miles; from 
Burton to Kendal is eleven miles. Now, Burton is in West¬ 
moreland ; and, once Avithin her oAAm county, Bell knew 
she Avas at home. 


OF A PHAETON. 


243 


’Twas a ])enlous sort of day in which to approach the 
region of the Northern Lakes. In the best of weather, the 
the great mass of mountains that stand on the margin of 
the sea ready to condense any moist vapors that may float 
in from the west and south, play sudden tricks sometimes, 
and drown the holiday-makers whom the sun has drawn out 
of the cottages, houses, and hotels up in the deep valleys. 
But here there were abundant clouds racing and chasing 
each other like the folks who sped over Cannobie Lea to 
overtake the bride of young Lochinvar ; and now and again 
the wind would drive down on us the flying fringes of one 
of these masses of vapor, producing a tem|)orary fear. Bell 
cared least for these premonitions. She would not even 
cover herself with a cloak. Many a time we could see rain¬ 
drops glimmering in her brown hair and dripping from the 
flowers that she had again twisted in the folds; but she sat 
erect and glad, with a fine color in her face that the wet 
breeze only heightened. When w'e got up to Slync and 
Bolton-le-Sands, and came in sight of the long sweep of 
Morecarnbe Bay, she paid no attention to the fact that all 
along the far margin of the sea the clouds had melted into 
a white belt of rain. It was enough for her that the sun 
was out there too; sometimes striking with a pale silvery 
light on the plain of the sea, sometimes throwing a stronger 
color on the long curve of level sand. A wetter or windier 
sight never met the view of an apprehensive traveller than 
that great stretch of sea and sky. The glimmer of the sun 
only made the moisture in the air more apparent as the 
gray clouds were sent flying up from the southwest. We 
could not tell whether the sea was breaking white or not; 
but the fierce blowing of the wind was apparent in the 
hurrying trails of cloud and the rapidly shifting shafts of 
sunlight that now and again shot down on the sands. 

“ Bell,” said Tita, with a little anxiety, “ you used to 
])ride yourself on being able to forecast the weather when 
you lived up among the hills. Don’t you think we shall 
jiavo a wet afternoon ?—and we have nearly twenty miles 
to go yet.” 

Tlie girl laughed. 

“ jMadcmoiselle acknowledges we shall have a little rain,” 
said the lieutenant, with a grim smile. If Bell was good 
at studying the appearances of the sky, he had acquired 
some skill in reading the language of her eloquent face. 


244 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Why,” says ouc of the party, “ a deaf man do’.vn in a 
coalpit could tell what sort of afternoon we shall liave. 
The wind is driving the clouds up. The hills are stop])ing 
them on the way. When we enter Westmoreland we shall 
find the whole forces of the rain fiends drawn out in array 
against us. But that is nothing to Bell, so long as we enter 
Westmoreland.” 

“ Ah, you shall see,” remarks Bell; “ we may have a 
little rain this evening.” 

“Yes, that is very likely,” said the lieutenant, who 
seemed greatly tickled by this frank admission. 

“But to-morrow, if tiiis strong wind keeps up all night, 
would you be astonished to find Kendal with its stone 
houses all shining white in the sun ? ” 

“ Yes, I should be astonished.” 

“ You must not provoke the prophetess,” sa^/s my lady, 
M^ho is rather nervous about rainy weatlier, “ or she will 
turn round on you and predict all sorts of evil.” 

We could not exactly tell when we crossed the border 
line of Westmoreland, or doubtless Bell w'ould have jumped 
down from the phaeton to kneel and kiss her native soil; 
but at all events, when we reached the curious little village 
of Burton we knew we were then in Westmoreland, and 
Bell ushered us into the ancient liostelry of The Royal 
Oak as if she had been the proprietress of that and all the 
surrounding country. In former days Burton was doubtless 
a place of importance, when the stage-coaches stopped here 
before plunging into the wild mountain country; and in 
the inn, which remains pretty much what it was in the last 
generation, were abundant relics of the past. When the 
lieutenant and I returned from the stables to the old-fash¬ 
ioned little parlor and museum of the place, we found Bell 
endeavoring to get some quivering, trembling, jangling 
notes out of the piano, that was doubtless a fine ])iece of 
furniture at one time. A piece of yellow ivory informed 
the beholder that this venerable instrument had been made 
by “Thomas Tomkison, Dean Street, Soho Manufacturer to 
his Royal Highness the Prince Regent.” And what was 
this that Bell was hammering out ? 

“ The standard on the hraes o’ Mar 
Is up and streaming rarely ! 

The gathering pipe on Lochnagar 
Is sounding laug and clearly i . . 


OF A PHAETON. 


2^5 


The Tlighlandraen, from hill and glen, 

In martial hue, wi’bonnets blue, 

Wi’ belted plaids and burnished blades, 

Are coming late and early. ” 

How the faded old instrument gi’oaned and quivered as if it 
wore struggling to get up some martial sentiment of its half- 
forgotten youth ! It did its best to pant after that rapid 
and stirring air, and labored and jangkd in a pathetic fash¬ 
ion through the chords. It seemed like some poor old pen¬ 
sioner, decrepit and feeble-eyed, who sees a regiment 
j^assing with their band playing, and who tries to straighten 
iiiraself up as he hears the tread of the men, and would fain 
step out to the sound of the music, but that his thin legs 
tremble beneath him. The wretched old piano struggled 
hard to keep up with the Gathering of the Clans as they 
hastened on to the braces’o Mar:— 

“ "Wlia wouklna join our noble chief, 

The Drummond and Glengarry, 

Macgregor, Murray, Rollo, Keith, 

Panmure, and gallant Harry 1 
Macdonald’s men, 

Clan Ranald’s men, 

M’Kenzie’s men, 

MacGilvray’s men, 

Strathallan’s men, 

The Lowland men 
Of Callander and Airlie 1 ’* 

until my lady put her hand gently on Bell’s shoulder, and 
said,— 

“ IMy dear, this is worse than eating green apples.’* 

Bell shut down the lid. 

“It is time for this old thing to be qiiiet,” she said. 
“ The people who sung with it when it was in its prime, they 
cannot sing any more now, and it has earned its rest.” 

Bell uttered these melancholy words as she turned to 
look out of the window. It was rather a gloomy afternoon. 
There was loss wind visible in the motion of the clouds, but 
in place of the flying and hurrying masses of vapor an 
ominous pall of gray was visible, and the main throughfare 
of Burton-in-Kendal was gradually growing moister under 
a slow rain. Suddenly the girl said,— 

“ Is it possible for Arthur to have reached Kendal ?” 

The lieutenant looked up, with something of a frown on 
his face. 


24 « 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Yes,” I say to her, “ if ho keeps up the pace with 
vhich he started. Tliirty miles a day in a light dog-cart 
will not seriously damage the major’s cob, if only he gets a 
day’s rest now and again.” 

“ Then perhaps Arthur may be coming along this rodd 
just now ? ” 

“ He may; but it is hardly likely. He would come 
over by Kirkby Lonsdale.” 

“ I think we should be none the worse for his company 
if he were to arrive,” said Tita, with a little apprehension, 
“ for it will be dark long before we get to Kendal—and on 
such a night, too, as we are likely to have.” 

“ Then let us start at once, madarae,” said the lieuten¬ 
ant. “ The horses will be ready to be put in harness now, 
I think; and they must have as much time for the rest of 
the journey as we can give them. Then the waterproofs— 
.1 will have them all taken out, and the rugs. We shall 
want much more than we have, I can assure you of that. 
And the lamps—we shall want them too.” 

The lieutenant walked off to the stables with these 
weighty affairs of state possessing his mind. He was as 
anxious to ])re5erve these two women from suffering a 
shower of rain as if lie thought they were made of brides- 
cake. Out in the yard we found him planning the disposal 
of the rugs with the eye of a practised campaigner, and 
taking every boy and man in the place into his confidence. 
Wliatever embarrassment his imperfect English might cause 
liim in a drawing-room, there was no need to guard his 
speech in a stable-yard. But sometimes our Uhlan was 
puzzled. What could he make, for example, of the follow¬ 
ing sentence, addressed to him by a worthy hostler at Gar- 
Btang? “ Yaas^ an ahyied'n daff hooket o' chilled waiter 
after aKd weshen' n ? Of the relations of the lieutenant 
with the people whom he thus casually encountered, it may 
be said generally that he was “ hail fellow well met,” with 
any man who seemed of a frank and communicable dispo¬ 
sition, With a good-natured landlord or groom, he would 
stand for any length of time talking about horses, their food, 
their ways, and the best methods of doctoring them. But 
when he encountered a sulky hostler, the unfortunate man 
had an evil time of it. His temper was not likely to be im¬ 
proved by the iwesence of this lounging young soldier, 
who stood whistling at the door of the stable and watch¬ 
ing that every bit of the grpvining was performed to a 


O/f'A PHAETON. 


nicety, who examined the quality of the oats, and was not 
content with the hay, and who calmly stood by with his 
cigar in his mouth until he had seen the animals eat everj 
grain of corn that had been put in the manger. The bad 
temper, by the way, was not always on the side of the 
hostler. 

A vague proposition that we should remain at Burton 
for that niglit was unanimously rejected. Come what 
might, we should start in Kendal with a clear day before us ; 
and what mattered this running through our final stage in 
rain ? A more feasible proposition, that both the women 
should sit in front, so as to get the benefit of the hood, was 
jected because neither of them would assume the responsi¬ 
bility of driving in the dark. But here a new and strange 
difficulty occurred. Of late, Bell and the lieutenant had 
never sat together in the phaeton. Now, the lieutenant de¬ 
clared it was much more safe that the horses should bo 
driven by their lawful owner, who was accustomed to them. 
Accordingly, my post was in front. Thereupon Bell, with 
many protestations of endearment insisted on Queen Tita 
having the shelter of the hood. Bell, in fact, would not get 
up until she had seen my lady safely ensconced there and 
swathed up like a mummy; it followed, accordingly, that 
Bell and her companion were liidden from us by the hood ; 
and the last of our setting-out arrangements was simply 
this : that the lieutenant absolutely and firmly refused to 
wear Ids waterproof, because, as he said, it would only have 
the effect of making the rain run in streams on to Bell’s tartan 
plaid. The girl put forward all manner of entreaties in 
vain. The foolish young man—he was on the headstrong 
side of thirty—would not hear of it. 

So we turned the horses’ heads to the north. Alas! over 
the mountainous country before us there lay an ominous 
darkness of sky. As we skirted Curwen Woods, and drove 
by within sight of Clawthorpe Fell, the road became more 
hilly and more lonely, and it seemed as if we were to plunge 
into an unknown region inliabited only by mountains and 
hanging clouds. Nevertheless we could hear Bell laughing 
and chatting to the lieutenant, and talking about what we 
should have to endure before we got to Kendal. As the 
Avind rose slightly, and blew the light waves of her laughter 
about, Tita called through to her, and asked her to sing 
again that Gathering of the Clans on the breezy braes o’ 
Mar. But what would the Avild inoimtain-spirits have done 


248 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


to US had they heard the twanging of a guitar up in this 
dismal region, to say nothing of the rain that would liave 
destroyed the precious instrument forever? For it was now 
pattering considerably on the top of the hood, and the wind 
had once more begun to blow. Tlie darkness grew a])ace. 
The winding gray thread of the road took us up hill and 
down dale, twisting through a variegated country, of which 
we could see little but the tall hedges on each side of us. 
The rain increased. The wind blew it about, and moaned 
through the trees, and made a sound in the telegraph wires 
overhead. These tall gray poles were destined to be an ex¬ 
cellent guide to us. As the gloom gathered over us, we 
grew accustomed to the monotonous rising and falling of the 
pale road, while here and there we encountered a great pool 
of water, which made the younger of the horses swerve from 
time to time. By and by we knew it would be impossible 
to make out any finger-post; so that the murmuring of the 
telegraph-wires in the wind promised to tell us if we were 
still keeping the correct route to Kendal. 

So we plunged on in the deepening twilight, splashing 
into the shallow pools, and listening to the whistling of the 
wind and the hissing of the rain. Bell had made no attempt 
to call out the clans on this wild night, and both of tlie 
young folks had for the most part relapsed into silence, un¬ 
less when they called to us some consolatory message or 
assurance that, on the whole, they rather enjoyed getting 
wet. But at last the lieutenant proposed that he should 
get down and light the lamps; and, indeed, it was high 
time. 

He got down. He came round to the front. Why the 
strange delay of his movements? He went round again to 
his seat, ke])t searching about for what seemed an uncon¬ 
scionable time, and then, coming back, said, rather indiffer¬ 
ently,— 

“ Do you happen to have a match with you ? ” 

“ No,” said I; and at the same moment Tita broke into 
a bright laugh. 

She knew the shame and mortification that were now 
on the face of the lieutenant, if only there had been more 
light to see him as he stood there. To have an old cam¬ 
paigner tricked in this u'ay ? He remained irresolute for a 
second or two ; and then he said, in accents of })rofouud 
vexation,— 

“ It is such stupidity us I never saw. I did leave my 



OF A PlIAETO:/. 


249 


case in the inn. Madame, you must pardon me this ridic¬ 
ulous thing; and we must drive on intil wo come to a house.” 

A liouse! The darkness had now come on so rapidly 
that twenty houses would scarcely have been visible, unless 
with yellow lights burning in the windows. There was 
nothing for it but to urge on our wild career as best we 
might; while we watched the telegraph-posts to tell us how 
the road went, and Castor and Pollux, with the wet stream 
ing down them, whirled the four wheels through the water 
and mud. 

Tita had been making merry over our mishap, but the 
jocularity died away in view of the fact that at every mo¬ 
ment there was a chance of our driving into a ditch. She 
forgot to laugh in lier efforts to make out the road before 
us; and at last, when we drove into an avenue of trees un¬ 
der which there was pitch-blackness, and as we felt that 
the horses were going down a hill, she called out to stop, so 
that one of us should descend and explore the way. 

A blacker night had not occurred since the separating of 
light and darkness at the Creation ; and when the lieutenant 
had got to the horses’ heads, it was with the greatest dith- 
culty he could induce them to go forward and down tlie 
liill. Ho Iiad himself to feel his way in a very cautious 
fashion ; and, indeed, his managing to keep the ])haeton 
somewhere about the middle of the road until we had got 
from under this black avenue must be regarded as a feuL 
He had scarcely got back into his seat, when the rain, which 
had been coming down pretty heavily, now fell in torrents. 
We could hear it hissing in the pools of the road, and all 
around us on the trees and hedges, while the phaeton seemed 
to be struggling through a waterfall. No plaids, rugs, 
mackintoshes, or other device of man could keep this deluge 
out; and Tita, with an air of calm resignation, made the 
remark that one of her shoes had come off and floated aw:iy. 
To crown all, we suddenly discovered that the telegraph- 
posts had abandoned us, and gone off another road. 

I stopped the horses. To miss one’s way in the wilds 
of Westmoreland on such a night was no joke. 

“Now, Bell, what lias become of your knowledge of 
this district ? Must we g(^ back and follow the telegraph- 
wires? Or shall we jmsh on on chance?” 

“ I can neither see nor speak for the rain,” cries Bell 
out of the darkness, “ But I think we ought to follow the 
telegraph-wires. They are sure to lead to Kendal.” 


250 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ With your permission, mademoiselle,” said the lieu¬ 
tenant, who was once more down in the road, “I think it 
would be a pity to go back. If we drive on, we must come 
to a village somewliere.” 

“They don’t happen so often in Westmoreland as you 
might expect,” says Bell, despondently. 

“ If you will wait here, then, I will go forward and see 
if I can find a house,” says the lieutenant, at which Queen 
Tita laughs again, and says we should all be washed away 
before he returned. 

The lieutenant struggles into his seat. We. push on 
blindly. The rain is still thundering down on us ; and we 
wonder whether we are fated to find ourselves in the early 
dawn somewhere about Wast Water or Coniston. 

About two hours before midnight^ Columbus^ standing 
on the forecastle^ observed a light at a distance, and pri¬ 
vately pointed it out to Queen Titania. 

“ ’Tis a turnpike, as 1 am a living navigator? ” exclaimed 
the adventurous man. 

A gun would have been fired from the deck of the Pinta 
to announce these joyful tidings, only that the rain 
had washed away our powder. But now that we were 
cheered with the sight of land, we pushed ahead gallantly ; 
the light grew in size and intensity; there could bo no 
doubt this wild region was inhabited by human beings; 
and at last a native appeared, who addressed us in a tongue 
which we managed with some difficulty to understand, 
and, having exacted from us a small gift, he allowed us to 
proceed. 

Once more we plunge into darkness and wet, but we 
know that Kendal is near. Just as we are approaching the 
foot of the hill, however, on which the town stands, a wild 
shriek from Titania startles the air. The Black shadow of 
a dog-cart is seen to swerve across in front of the horses’ 
heads, and just skims by our wheels. The wrath that dwelt 
in my lady’s heart with regard to the two men in this phan¬ 
tom vehicle need not be expressed; for what with the dark¬ 
ness of the trees, and the roaring of the wind and rain, 
and the fact of these two travellers coming at a fine pace 
along the wrong side of the road, we just escaped a catas¬ 
trophe. 

But we survived that danger, too, as we survived the 
strife of the elements. We drove up into the town. We 
wheeled round by the archway of still another King’s Arms; 


OF A PHAETON. 


251 


and presently a half-drowned party of people, with their 
eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, wholly bewildered 
with the light, were standing in the warm and yellow 
glare of the hotel. There was a fluttering of dripping water¬ 
proofs, a pulling asunder of soaked plaids, and a drying of 
wet and gleaming cheeks that were red with the rain. The 
commotion raised by our entrance W’as alarming. You 
would have thought we had taken posession of this big, 
warm, comfortable, old-fashioned inn. A thousand servants 
seemed to be scampering about the house to assist us ; and 
by and by, when all those moist garments had been taken 
away, and other and warmer clothing put on, and a steam¬ 
ing and fragrant banquet placed on the table, you should 
have seen the satisfaction that dwelt on every face. Arthur 
had not come—at least, no one had been making inquiries 
for us. There was nothing for us but to attack the savory 
feast, and relate with laughter and with gladness all the ad¬ 
ventures of the day, until you would have thought that the 
grave mother of those two boys at Twickenham had grown 
merry with the Cliampngne, whereas she had not yet tasted 
the wine that was frothing and creaming in her glass. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


ALL ABOUT WINDERMERE. 

“ O meekest dove 

Of Ueaven I O Cynthia, ten times bright and fair ! 

From thy blue throne, now filling all the air. 

Glance but one little beam of tempered light 
Into my bosom, that the dreadful might 
And tyranny of love be somewhat scared.” 

It is a pleasant thing, especially in holiday-time, when 
one happens to have gone to bed with the depressing con¬ 
sciousness that outside the house the night is wild and 
stormy—rain pouring ceaselessly down, and the fine weather 
sped away to the south— to catch a sudden glimmer, just 
as one 0 })cns one’s eyes in the morning, of glowing green, 
where the sunlight is quivering on the waving branches of 
the trees, The new day is a miracle of freshness. The rain 



252 


THE STRAHGE ADVENTURE 


lias washed the leaves, and the wind is sliaking and rustling 
them in the warm light. You throw open the window, and 
the breeze that comes blowing in is sweet with the smell of 
wet roses. It is a new, bright, joyous day; and the rain 
and the black night have fled together. 

Bell’s audacity in daring to hope we might have a fine 
morning after that wild evening had almost destroyed our 
belief in her weather foresight; but sure enough, when we 
got up on the following day, the stone houses of Kendal 
were shining in the sun, and a bright light coloring up the 
faces of the country people who had come into the town on 
early business. And what was this we heard?—a simple and 
familiar air that carried Tita back to that small church in 
Surrey over which she presides—sung carelessly and lightly 
by a young lady who certainly did not know that she could 
be overheard,— 

“ ITark, hark, my soul, angelic songs are swelling 
O’er earth’s green fields and ocean’s wave-beat shore.” 

Bell was at her orisons; but as the hymn only came to us 
ill fitful and uncertain snatches, we concluded that the in- 
tei'vals were filled up by that light-hearted young woman 
twisting up the splendid folds of her hair. There was no 
great religious fervmr in her singing, to be sure. Sometimes 
the careless songstress forgot to add the words, and let us 
have fragments of the pretty air, of which she was particu- 
lai-ly fond. But there was no reason at all why this pious 
hymn should be suddenly forsaken for the “ rataplan^ rata¬ 
plan^ rataplan — rataplan^ plan^ plan^ plan^'’ of the 

“ Daughter of the Kegiment.” 

When we went downstairs, Bell was gravely perusing 
the morning papers. At this time the government were 
hurrying their Ballot bill through the House, and the daily 
journals were full of clauses, amendments, and divisions. 
Bell wore rather a puzzled look ; but she was so deeply 
interested—whether with the Parliamentary Summary or 
the Fashionable Intelligence, can only be guessed—that 
she did not observe our entering the room. My lady went 
gently forward to her, and said,— 

Hark, hark, my soul, angelic songs are swelling 

O’er earth’s green fields—” 

The girl looked up with a start, and with a little look of 
alarm. 


OF A PI/AETO.V 


253 


“ Young ladies,” observed Tita, “ who have a habit of 
humming airs during their toilet ought to be sure that 
their room is not separated by a very thin partition from 
any other room.” 

“ If it was only you, I don’t care.” 

“ It mightn’t have been only me.” 

“ There is no great harm in a hymn,” says Bell. 

But when one mixes up a hymn with that wicked 
song which Maria and the Sergeant sing together? Bell, 
we will forgive you everything this morning. You are quite 
a witch with the weather, and you shall have a kiss for 
bringing us such a beautiful day.” 

The morning salutation was })erformed. 

“Isn’t there enough of that to go round?” says the 
third person of the group. “ Bell used to kiss me dutifully 
every morning. But a French writer has described a young 
lady as a creature that ceases to kiss gentlemen at twelve 
and begins again at twenty.” 

“ A French Avriter !” says Tita. “No French writer 
ever said anything so impertinent and so stupid. The French 
are a cultivated nation, and their Avit never takes the form 
of rudeness.” 

A nation ora man—it is all the same: attack either, 
and my lady is ready Avith a sort of formal Avarranty of 
character. 

“ But Avhy, Tita,” says Bell, Avith just a trifle of protest 
in her voice, “ Avhy do you always praise the French nation ? 
Other nations are as good as they are.” 

The laughter that shook the coffee-room of The King’s 
Arms in Kendal, when this startling announcement Avas 
made to us, cannot be conveyed in Avords. There Avas 
something so boldly ingenuous in Bell’s protest that even 
Tita laughed till the tears stood in her eyes, and then she 
kissed Bell, and asked her })ardon, and remarked that she 
Avas ready to acknowledge at any moment that the German 
nation Avas as good as the French nation. 

“ I did not mean anything of the kind,” says Bell, 
looking rather shamefaced. “ What does it matter to me 
Avhat any one thinks of the German nation?” 

That Avas a true observation, at least. It did not 
matter to her, or to anybody. The anthropomorphic 
abstractions Avhich Ave call nations are very good pegs to 
liang prejudices on; but they do not suffer or gain much 
by any opinious aa"C may form of their “characteristics.” 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


*254 

“ Where is Count Von Rosen ?” says Tita. 

‘‘I do not know,” answered Bell, with an excellent 
assumption of indifference. “I have not seen him this 
morning. Probably he will come in and tell us that he has 
been to Windermere.” 

“No, mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant, entering the 
room at the same moment, “I have not been to Winder- 
mere, but I am very anxious to go, for the morning is very 
fresh and good, and is it possible to say that it will remain 
fine all the day ? We may start directly after breakfast. 
I have looked at the horses; they are all very well, and 
have suffered nothing from the rain; they are looking 
contented and comfortable after the bran-mash of last night, 
and to-morrow they will start again very well.” 

“And you have heard nothing of Arthur?” says my 
lady. 

“No.” 

Was the lieutenant likely to have been scouring the 
country in search of that young man ? 

“ It is very strange. If he found himself unable to get 
here by the time he expecetd to meet us, it is a wonder he 
did not send on a message. I hope he has met with no ac¬ 
cident.” 

“ No, there is no fear, madam,” said the lieutenant; “ he 
will overtake us soon. He may arrive to-night, or to-morrow 
before we go ; he cannot make a mistake about finding us. 
But you do not propose to wait anywhere for him ? ” 

“No,” Isay, decisively,“ we don’t. Or if we do wait for 
him, it will not be in Kendal.” 

The lieutenant seemed to think that Arthur would over¬ 
take us soon enough, and need not further concern us. But 
my lady appeared to be a little anxious about the safety of the 
young man until it was shown us that, after all Arthur miglit 
have been moved to give the major’s cob a day’s rest some¬ 
where, in which case he could not possibly have reached 
Kendal by this time. 

We go out into the sunlit and breezy street. We can almost 
believe Bell that there is a peculiar sweetness in the West¬ 
moreland air. We lounge about the quaint old town, which, 
perched on the steep slope of a hill, has sometimes those cur¬ 
ious juxtapositions of doorsteps and chimney-pot which are 
familiar to the successive terraces of Dartmouth. We go 
down to the green banks of the river; and the lieutenant is 
bidden to observe how rapid and clear the brown stream is. 


OF A Pl/AETON. 


255 


even after coming through the dyeing and bleaching works. 
He is walking on in front UMth Bell. He does not strive 
to avoid her now ; on the contrary, they are inseparable com¬ 
panions ; but my lady puzzles herself in vain to discover what 
are their actual relations towards each other at this time. 
They do not seem anxious or dissatisfied. They appear to 
have drifted back into those ordinary friendly terms of in¬ 
tercourse which had marked their setting out: but how is 
this possible after what occurred in Wales ? As neither 
has said anything to us about these things, nothing is known ; 
these confidences have been invariably voluntary, and ray 
lady is quite well pleased that Bell should manage her own 
affairs. 

Certainly, if Bell was at this time being pressed to de¬ 
cide between Yon Rosen and Arthur, that unfortunate 
youth from Twickenham w'as suffering grievously from an 
evil fortune. Considen’ what advantages the lieutentant had 
in accompanying the girl into this dreamland of her youth, 
when her heart was opening out to all sorts of tender recol¬ 
lections, and when, to confer a great gratification upon her, 
you had only to say you were pleased with Westmoreland, 
and its sunlight, and its people and scenery. What adject¬ 
ives that perfervid Uhlan may have been using—and he was 
rather a good hand at expressing his satisfaction with any¬ 
thing—we did not try to hear ; but Bell wore her brightest 
and happiest looks. Doubtless the lieutenant was telling 
lier that there w’as no water in the world could turn owt 
sucli brilliant colors as those we saw bleaching on the 
meadows ; that no river in the world ran half as fast as the 
Kent; and that no light could compare with the light of a 
AVestmoreland sky in beautifying and clarifying the varied 
lilies of the landscape that lay around. He was greatly sur 
jirised with the old-fashioned streets when we had clambered 
up to the town again. He paid particular attention to the 
railway-station. When a porter caught a boy back from 
the edge of the platform, and angrily said to him, “ Wilts’ 
thee doin’ theear, an’ the traain a-comin’ oop ?” he made as 
though ho understood the man. This was Bell’s country ; 
and everything in it was profoundly interesting. 

However when the train had once got away from the 
station, and wo found ourselves being carried tliroiigh the 
fresh and pleasant landscape, with a cool wind blowing in 
at the window, and all the trees outside bending and rustling 
in the breeze, it was not merely cut of compliment to Boll 


256 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


that lie praised tlio briglitness of the day and tlic beauty 
of the country around. 

“ And it is so comforting to tliink of tlie liorses enjoying 
a day’s thorough rest,” said Tita; “ for when we start again 
to-morrow, they will have to attack some hard work.” 

Only at first,” said Bell, who was always ready to sliow 
that she knew the road. “ The first mile or so is hilly; ])ut 
after that the road goes down to Windermere and runs along 
by the lake to Ambleside. It is a beautiful drive through 
the trees; and if we get a day like this—” 

No wonder she turned to look out with pride and delight 
on the glowing picture that lay around us, the background 
of which liad glimpses of blue mountains lying pale and 
misty under light masses of cloud. The small stations we 
passed were smothered in green foliage. Here and there 
we caught sight of a brown rivulet, or a long avenue of 
trees arching over a white road. And then, in an incredibly 
short space of time, we found ourselves outside the Winder- 
mere station, standing in the open glare of the day. 

For an instant, a look of bewilderment, and even of 
disap])ointment, appeared on the girl’s face. Evidently, 
she did not know the way. The houses that had sprung 
up of late years were strangers to her, strangers that seemed 
to have no business there. But whereas the new buildings, 
and the cutting of terraces, and alterations of gardens, 
were novel and perplexing phenomena, the general features 
of the neighborhood remained the same; and after a mo¬ 
mentary hesitation she hit upon the right path up to Elle- 
ray, and thereafter was quite at home. 

Now there rests in Bell’s mind a strange superstition 
that she can remember, as a child, having sat upon Chris¬ 
topher North’s knee. The story is wholly impossible and 
absurd ; for Wilson died in the year in which Bell was born; 
but she nevertheless ])reserves the fixed impression of hav¬ 
ing seen the kingly old man, and wondered at his long hair 
and great collar, and listened to his talking to her. Out of 
what circumstance in her childhood this curious belief may 
have arisen is a psychological conundrum which Tita and I 
have long ago given up ; and Bell herself cannot even sug¬ 
gest any other celebrated person of the neighborhood who 
may, in her infancy, have j)roduced a profound impression 
on her imagination, and caused her to construct a confused 
picture into which the noble figure of the old professor had 
somehow and subsequently been introduced ; but none the 


OF A PHAETON. 


257 


less she ashs us how it is that she can remember exactly the 
cx]iression of his face and eyes as he looked down on lier, 
and how even to this day she can recall the sense of awe 
witli Avliich she regarded him, even as he was trying to 
amuse her. 

The lieutenant knew all about this story; and it was 
with a great interest that he went up to Elleray Cottage, 
and saw the famous chestnut which Christoplier North has 
talked of to the world. It was as if some relative of Bell’s 
had lived in this place—some foster-father or grand-uncle 
who had watched her youth; and who does not know the 
strange curiosity with which a lover listens to stories of the 
childhood of his sweetheart, or meets any one who knew 
her in those old and lialf-forgotten years ? It seems a won¬ 
derful thing to him that he should not have known her 
then ; that all the world at that time, so far as he knew, was 
unconscious of her magical presence ; and he seeks to make 
himself familiar with her earliest years, to nurse the delu¬ 
sion that he has known her always, and that ever since her 
entrance into the world she has belonged to him. In like 
manner, let two lovers, who liave known each other for a 
number of years, begin to reveal to each other when the 
first notion of love entered their mind ; they will insensibly 
shift the date farther and farther back, as if they would 
blot out the pallid and colorless time in which they were 
stupid enough not to have found out their great affection 
for each other. The lieutenant was quite vexed that he 
knew little of Professor Wilson’s works. He said he would 
get them all the moment that he went back to London ; and 
when Bell, as we lingered about the grounds of Elleray, 
told him how that there was a great deal of Scotch in the 
books, and how the old man whom she vaguely recollected 
had written about Scotland, and how that she had about as 
great a longing, when she was buried away down South in 
the commonplaceness of London and Surrey, to smell the 
heather and see the lovely glens and the far-reacliing sea- 
lakes of the Highlands, as to reach her own and native 
Westmoreland, the lieutenant began to nurture a secret 
affection for Scotland, and wondered when we should get 
there. 

I cannot describe in minute detail, our day’s ramble 
about Windermere. It was all a dream to us. Many years 
had come and gone since those of us who were familiar Avith 
the place had been there ; and somehow, half unconsciously 


258 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


to ourselves, we kept trying to get away from tlie sight of 
new people and new houses, and to discover the old familiar 
features of the neighborhood tliat we had loved. Once or 
twice there was in Tita’s eyes a moisture slie could scarce 
conceal; and the light of gladness on Bell’s bright face was 
preserved there chiedy through her efforts to instruct the 
lieutenant, which made her forget old memories. She was 
happy, too, in hitting on the old paths. When we went 
down from Elleray through the pi-ivate grounds that lie 
along the side of the hill, she found no difficulty whatever 
in showing us how we were to get to the lake. She took 
us down through a close and sweet-smelling wood, where 
the sunlight only struggled at intervals through the innu¬ 
merable stems and leaves, and lighted up the brackens, and 
other ferns and underwood. There was a stream running 
close by, that plashed and gurgled along its stony channel. 
As we got farther down the slope, the darkness of the 
avenue increased; and then all at once, at the end of the 
trees, we came in sight of a blinding glare of white—the 
level waters of the lake. 

And then, when we left the wood and stood on the 
shore, all the fair plain of Windermere lay before us, wind¬ 
swept and troubled, with great dashes of blue along its 
surface, and a breezy sky moving overhead. Near at hand 
there were soft green hills shining in the sunlight; and, 
farther off, long and narrow promontories, piercing out 
into the water, with their dark line of trees growing almost 
black against the silver glory of the lake. But then again 
the hurrying wind would blow away the shadow of the 
cloud; a beam of sunlight would run along the line of 
trees, making them glow green above the blue of the water; 
and from this moving and shifting and shining picture we 
turned to the far and ethereal masses of the Langdale 
Pikes and the mountains above Ambleside, which changed 
as the changing clouds were blown over from the west. 

We got a boat and went out into the wilderness of 
water and wind and sky. Now we saw the reedy shores 
behind us, and the clear and shallow water at the brink of 
which we had been standing receiving the troubled reflec¬ 
tion of the woods. Out here the beautiful islands of Lady 
Holm, Thompson’s Holm, and Belle Isle were shimmering 
in green. Far up there in the north the slopes and gullies 
of the great mountains were showing a thousand hues of 
soft velvet-like grays and even warming up into a palo yeL 


OF A PI/AETOFT. 


259 


lowish-grecn, wliere a, ray of tlie sunliglit struck the lower 
slopes. Over by Furness Fells the clouds lay in heavier 
masses, and moved slowly; but elsewhere there was a brisk 
motion over the lake that changed its beauties even as one 
looked at them. 

“ Mademoiselle,’^ observed the lieutenant, as if .a new 
revelation had broken upon him, “ all that you have said 
about your native country is true; and now I understand 
why that you did weary in London, and think very much 
of your own home.” 

Perhaps he thought, too, that there was but one county 
in England, or in the world, that could have produced this 
handsome, courageous, generous, and true-hearted English 
girl—for such are the exaggerations that lovers cherish. 

Wo put into Bowness, and went up to The Crown hotel 
there. In an instant—as rapidly as Alloway Kirk became 
dark when Tam o’Shanter called out—the whole romance 
of the day went clean out and was extinguished. How any 
of God’s creatures could have come to dress themselves in 
such fashion, amidst such scenery, our young Uhlan ])ro- 
fessed himself unable to tell; but here were men—appar¬ 
ently in their proper senses—wearing such comicalities of 
jackets and resplendent knickerbockers as would have 
made a harlequin blush, with young ladies tarred and feath¬ 
ered, as it were, with staring stripes and alarming petti¬ 
coats, and sailors’ hats of straw. Why should the borders 
of a lake be provocative of these mad eccentricities? Who 
that has wandered about the neighborhoods of Zurich, 
Lucerne, and Thun does not know the wild freaks which 
Englishmen (far more than Englishwomen) will permit to 
themselves in dress ? We should have fancied those gen¬ 
tlemen with the variegated knickerbockers had just come 
down from the Righi (by rail) if they had had alpenstocks 
and snow-spectacles with them; and, indeed, it was a mat¬ 
ter for surprise that these familiar appurtenances were ab¬ 
sent from the shores of Windermere. 

My lady looked at the strange people rather askance. 

“ My dear,” says Bell, in an undertone, “ they are quite 
harmless.” 

We had luncheon in a corner of the great room. Din¬ 
ner was already laid; and our plain meal seemed to bor¬ 
row a certain richness from that long array of colored wine 
glasses. Bell considered it rather pretty ; but my lady be¬ 
gan to wonder how much crystal the servants would have 


2G0 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


broken by the time we got back to Surrey. Then we went 
down to the lake again, stepped into a small steamer, and 
stood out to sea. 

It was now well on in the afternoon ; and the masses of 
cloud that came rolling over from tlie west and southwest, 
when they clung to the summits of the mountains, threw a 
deeper shadow on the landscaj)e beneath. Here and tliere, 
too, as the evening wore on, and we had steamed up within 
sight of the small island that is called Seamew Crag, we oc¬ 
casionally saw one of the great heaps of cloud get melted 
down into a gray mist that for a few minutes blotted out 
the side of a mountain. Meanwhile the sun had also got 
well up to the northwest; and as the clouds came over and 
swept about the peaks of Langdale, a succession of the 
wildest atmospheric effects became visible. Sometimes a 
great gloom would overspread tlie whole landscape, and we 
began to anticipate a night of rain ; then a curious saffron 
glow would appear behind the clouds ; then a great smoke 
of gray would be seen to creep down the hill, and finally 
the sunlight would break through, shining on the retreating 
vapor and on the wet sides of the hills. Once or twice a 
light trail of cloud passed across the lake and threw a slight 
shower of rain upon us ; but when we got to Ambleside, the 
clouds had been for the most part driven by, and the clear 
heavens, irradiated by a beautiful twilight, tempted us to 
walk back to Windermere village by the road. 

You may suppose that that was a pleasant walk for 
those two young folks. Everything had conspired to please 
Bell during the day, and she was in a dangerously amiable 
mood. As the dusk fell, and the white water gleamed 
through the trees by the margin of the lake, we walked 
along the winding road without meeting a solitary creature ; 
and Queen Titania gently let our young friends get on 
ahead, so that we could only see the two dark figures pass 
underneath the dark avenues of trees. 

“ Did you ever see a girl more happy ? ” she says. 

“ Yes, once—at Eastbourne.” 

Tita laughs, in a low, pleased way; for she is never 
averse to recalling these old day. 

“ I was very stupid then,” she says. 

That is a matter upon which she, of course, ought to be 
able to speak. It would be unbecoming to interfere with 
the right of private judgment. 

“ Besides,” she remarks, audaciously, “ I did not mean 


OF A niAETOA^. 


2G1 


half I said. Don’t you imagine I meant lialf what I said. 
It was all making fun, you know, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ It has been deadly earnest since.” 

“ Poor thing! ” she says, in the most sympathetic way ; 
and there is no saying what fatal thunder-bolt she might 
have launched, had not her attention been called away just 
then. 

For as we went along in the twilight it seemed to ug 
that the old moss-covered wall was beginning to throw a 
slight shadow, and that the pale road was growing warmer 
in hue. Moved by the same impulse, we turned suddenly 
to the lake, and, lo! out there beyond the trees a great yel¬ 
low glory was lying on the bosom of Windermere, and 
somewhere, hidden by the dark branches, the low moon had 
oome into the clear violet sky. We walked on until we 
came to a clearance in the trees, and there, just over the 
opposite shore, the golden crescent lay in the heavens, the 
purple of w’hich was suffused by the soft glow. It was a 
wonderful twilight. The ripples that broke in among the 
reeds down at the shore quivered in lines of gold; and a 
little bit further out a small boat lay black as night in the 
path of the moonlight. The shadow cast by the wall grew 
stronger; and now the trees, too, threw black bars across 
the yellow road. The two lovers paid no heed to these 
things for a long time—they wandered on, engrossed in 
talk. But at length we saw them stop and turn towards 
the lake; while I3ell looked back towards us, with her face 
getting a faint touch of the glory comingover from the 
south. 

All the jesting had gone out of Bell’s face. She was as 
grave, and gentle, and thoughtful—when we reached the 
two of them—as Undine w'as on the day after her mar¬ 
riage ; and insensibly she drew near to Tita, and took her 
away from us, and left the lieutenant and myself to follow. 
That young gentleman was as solemn as though he had 
swallowed the Longer Catechism and the Westminister 
Confession of Faith. He admitted tliat it was a beautiful 
evening. He made a remark about the scenery of the dis¬ 
trict which would have served admirably as a motto for one 
of those views that stationers put at the head of their note- 
]>aper. And then, with some abruptness, he asked what we 
should do if Arthur did not arrive in Kendal that night or 
next day. 

“If Arthur does not come to-night, we shall probably 


202 • THE STRANGE A E FEN TORES 

liave some dinner at The King’s Arms. If he does not 
come in the morning, we may be permitted to take some 
breakfast. And then, if his staying away does not alter the 
position of Windermere, we shall most likely drive along 
this very road to-morrow forenoon. But why this solemn 
importance conferred on Arthur all of a sudden?” 

“ Oh, I cannot tell you.” 

“Nobody asked you.” 

“But I will give you a very good cigar, my dear 
friend.” 

“ That is a great deal better; but let it be old and dry.” 

And so we got back to Windermere station and took 
train to Kendal. By the time we were walking up through 
the streets of the old town tlie niooii had swum further up 
into the heavens, and its light, now a pale silver, was shin¬ 
ing along the fronts of the houses. 

We went into the inn. No message from Arthur. A 
little flutter of dismay disturbs the women, until the folly 
of imagining all manner of accidents—merely because an 
erratic young man takes a day longer to drive to Kendal 
than they anticipated—is ])ointed out to them. Then dinner 
and Bell appears in her j)rettiest dress, so that even Tita, 
when she conies into the room, kisses her, as if the girl had 
])erformed a specially virtuous action in merely choosing 
out of a milliner’s shop a suitable color. 


[Note by Queen Tilania. —“ I hope I am revealing no secrets ; but 
it would be a great pity if any one thought that Bell was heartless or 
indifferent —a mistake that might occur when she is written about by 
one who makes a jest about the most serious moments in one’s life. 
Now it was quite pitiable to see how the poor girl was troubled as we 
walked home that night by the side of Windermere. She as good as 
confessed to me—not in words, you know, for between women the 
least hint is quite sufficient, and saves a great deal of embarrassment 
—that she very much liked the lieutenant, and admired his character, 
and that she was extremely vexed and sorry that she had been com¬ 
pelled to refuse him when he made her an offer. She told me, too, 
lliat he had pressed her not to make that decision final ; and that she 
had admitted to him that it was really against her own wish that she 
had done so. But then she put it to me, as she had put it to him, 
what she would think of herself if she went and betrayed Arthur in 
this way. Really, I could not see any betrayal in the matter ; and I 
asked her whether it would be fair to Arthur to marry him while she 
secretly would have preferred to marry another. She said she would 
try all in her power not to marry Arthur, if only he would be recon¬ 
ciled to her breaking with him ; but then she immediately added, 
with an earnestness that I thought very pathetic, that if she 
treated Arthur badly, any other man might fairly expect her to treat 


OP A PIIAETO.V. 


2G3 


]um badly too ; and if she could not satisfy herself that she had acted 
l ightly throughout, she would not marry at all. It is a great pity I 
cannot show the readers of these few lines our pretty Bell’s photo¬ 
graph, or they would see ihe downright absurdity of such a resolve 
as that. To think of a girl like her not marrying is simply out of the 
question ; but the danger at this moment was that, in one of these 
foolish fits of determination, she would send the lieutenant away 
altogether. Then 1 think there might be a chance of her not marry¬ 
ing at all ; for I am greatly mistaken if she does not care a good deal 
more for him than she will acknowledge. I advised her to tell Arthur 
frankly how matters stand ; but she seems afraid. Under any cir¬ 
cumstances, he will be sure to discover the truth ; and then it will be 
far worse for him than if she made a full confession just now, and 
got rid of all these perplexities and entanglements, which ought not 
to be throwing a cloud over a young face. ” j 


CHAPTER XXII. 

ON CAVIAUE AND OTIIEIl StATTERS. 

“ At the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatisfied 
with some roast mutton which he had for dinner. The ladies, I saw 
M'ondered to see the great philosopher, whose wisdom and wit they 
had been admiring all the way, get into ill-humor from such a cause.*' 

“There is no Paradise without its Serpent,” said my 
l.adv, with a sigh, as we were about to leave the white streets 
of Kendal for the green heart of the Lake district. 

A more cruel speech was never made. Arthur, for aught 
wo kne\v% might be lying smashed up in a Yorksliire ditcli. 
He had not overtaken us even on tlie morning after our 
arrival in Kendal. No message had come from him. Was 
this a time to liken him to the Father of Lies, when perhaps 
the major’s cob had taken him down a railway-cutting or 
thrown him into a disused coal-pit ? What, for example, 
if his corpse had been brought into The King’s Arms in 
which the above words were uttered ? Would the lieuten¬ 
ant have spoken of him contemptuously as a “ pitiful fellow 
—oh, a very pitiful fellow?” Would Bell have borne his 
presence with a meek and embarrassed resignation ; or 
would Queen Tita have regarded the young man—who 
used to be a great friend of hers—as one intending to do 
her a deadly injury ? 


2G4 


THE STRAXGE ADVEXTURES 


“ Poor Artliur ! ” I say. “ Whither have all thy friends 
departed ? 

“ At least, he does not want for an apologist,” says Tita, 
with a little unnecessary fierceness. 

“ Perhaps thou art lying under two wheels in a peaceful 
glade. Perhaps thou art floating out to the ocean on the 
bosom of a friendly stream—with all the companions of thy 
youth unheeding—” 

“Stuff?” says Queen Tita; and when I observe that I 
will address no further appeal to her—for that a lady who 
lends herself to match-making abandons all natural instincts, 
and is insensible to a cry for pity—she turns impatiently, 
and asks what I have done with her eau-de-cologne, as if the 
fate of Arthur were of less importance to her than that 
trumisery flask. 

Wherever the young man was, we could gain no tidings 
of him ; and so we went forth once more on our journey. 
But as the certainty was that he had not passed us, how 
was it that Queen Tita feared the presence of this evil 
thing ill the beautiful land before us? 

“ For,” said tlie lieutenant, pretending he was quite 
anxious about the safety of the young man, and, on the 
whole, desirous of seeing him, “ he may have gone to Car¬ 
lisle, as he at first proposed, to meet us there.” 

“ Oil, do you think so?” said Bell, eagerly. Was she 
glad, then, to think that during our wanderings in her na¬ 
tive county we should not be accompanied by that un- 
hap])y youth ? 

But the emotions which perplexed my lady’s heart at 
this time were of the most curious sort. It was. only by 
bits and snatches that the odd contradictions and intrica¬ 
cies of them were revealed. To begin with, she had a 
sneaking fondness for Arthur, begotten of old associations. 
She was vexed with him because he was likely to ruin her 
plan for the marriage of Bell and the lieutenant; and when 
Tita thought of this delightful jirospect being destroyed by 
the interference of Arthur, she grow angry, and regarded 
him as an unreasonable and oflicious young man, who ought 
to be sent about his business. Then again, when she re¬ 
called our old evenings in Surrey, and the pleasant time the 
boy had in sweethearting with our bonny Bell during the 
long and lazy afternoon walks, she was visited with remorse 
and wished she could do something for him. But a claim¬ 
ant of this sort who represents an injury is certain, sooner 


OF A PI/AETO.V. 


265 


or latter, to bo regarded with dislike. lie is continually 
reminding us that we liavo injured him, and disturbing our 
peace of mind. Sometimes Tita resented this claim (which 
was entirely of her own imagining) so strongly as to look 
upon Artliur as a perverse and wicked intermeddler with 
the happiness of two young lovers. So the world wags. 
The person who is inconvenient to us does us a wrong. At 
the very basis of our theatrical drama lies the principle that 
non-success in a love affair is criminal. Two young men 
shall woo a young woman ; the one shall be taken, and tlic 
other made a villain because he paid the girl the compli¬ 
ment of wanting to marry her, and justice shall not be sat¬ 
isfied until everybody has hounded and hunted the poor 
villain through all the phases of the play, until all the poor 
people meet to witness his discomfiture, and he is bidden to 
go away and bo a rejected suitor no more. 

It was only in one of these varying moods that Tita had 
shown a partial indifference to Arthur’s fate. She was really 
concerned about his absence. When she took her seat in 
the phaeton, she looked back and down the main thorough¬ 
fare of Kendal, half ex])ecting to see the major’s cob and a 
small dog-cart come driving along. The suggestion that 
lie might liave gone on to Penrith or Carlisle comforted her 
greatly. Tiie only inexplicable circumstance was that 
Arthur had not written or telegraphed to Kendal, at which 
town he knew we were to stop. 

About five minutes after our leaving Kendal, Arthur 
was as completely forgotten as though no such hapless crea¬ 
ture was in existence. We wei’e all on foot except Tita, 
who remained in the phaeton to hold the reins in a formal 
fashion. For about a mile and a half the road gradually 
rises, giving a long spell of collar work to horses with 
weight to drag behind them. Tita, who weighs about a 
feather and a half, was commissioned to the charge of the 
phaeton while the rest of us dawdled along the road, giv¬ 
ing Castor and Pollux j>lenty of time. It was a pleasant 
walk. The lieutenant, with an amount of hypocrisy of 
which I had not suspected him guilty, seemed to prefer to 
go by the side of the phaeton, and talk to the small lady 
sitting enthroned there; but Bell, once on foot and in her 
native air, could not so moderate her pace. We set off up 
the hill. There was a scent of peat-reek in the air. A cool 
west wind was blowing through the tall liedges and the 
trees; and sudden shafts and gleams of sunlight fell from 


THE STRAiXGE ADVEXTURES 


‘JCG 


the uncertain sky and lighted up the wild masses of weeds 
and flowers by the roadside. Bell pulled a white dogrose, 
and kissed it as though a Westmoreland rose was an old 
friend she had come to see. She saw good jests in the 
idlest talk, and lauglied ; and all her face was aglow with 
delight as she looked at tlie beautiful country, and the 
breezy sky, and tlie blue peaks of the mountains thatseemed 
to grow higher and higlier the fartlier we ascended the 
hill. 

“You silly girl,” I say to her, when she is eagerto point 
out cottages built of stone, and stone walls sejiarating small 
orchards from the undulating meadows, “do you think 
there are no stone cottages anywhere but in Westmore* 
land. 

“ I didn’t say there wasn’t, ” she answers, regardless of 
grammar. 

Yes, we were certainly in Westmoreland. She had 
scarcely uttered the words when a rapid pattering was 
heard among the trees, and presently a brisk shower was 
raining down upon us. Would she return to the phaeton 
for a shawl ? No, She knew the ways of Westmoreland 
showers on such a day as this; indeed, she had jwedicted 
that some of the heavy clouds being blown over from the 
other side of Windermere would visit us in ])assing. In a 
few minutes the shower lightened, the wind that shook the 
heavy dro])S from the trees seemed to bring dryness with 
it, and presently a warm glow of sunshine sprung down 
upon the road, and the air grew sweet with resinous and 
fragrant smells. 

“ It was merely to lay the dust, ” said Bell, as though 
she had ordered the shower. 

After you pass Bather Heath, you go down into the 
valley of the Gowan. The road is more of a lane than a 
highway; and the bright and showery day added to the 
picturesqueness of the tall hedges and the wooded country 
on both sides by sending across alternate splatches of gloom 
and bursts of sunlight. More than once, too, the tail-end 
of a shower caught us; but we cared little for rain that had 
wind and sunlight on the other side of it; and Bell, indeed, 
rather rejoiced in the pictorial effects produced by changing 
clouds, when the sunshine caused the heavier masses to grow 
black and ominous, or shone mistily through the frail sheet 
produced by the thinner masses melting into rain. 

Tita is a pretty safe driver in Surrey, where she knows 


OF A F//AETO.V. 


2C7 


every inch of the roads and lanes, and lias nothing to dis¬ 
tract lier attention ; but now, among these hilly and stony 
Westmoreland roads, her enjoyment of the bright panorama 
around her considerably drew lier attention away from the 
liorses’ feet. Tlien she was sorely troubled by news that 
liad reached us that morning from home. An evil-doer, 
Avhom she liad liitherto kept in order by alternate bribes 
and threats, had broken out again, and given his wife a 
desperate thrashing. Now this occurrence seldom happened 
excejit when both husband and wife were intoxicated ; and 
for some time back my lady had succeeded in stopping 
their periodical bouts. With these evil tidings came the 
report that a horrible old creature of sixty—as arrant a 
rogue as ever went on crutches, although ray lady would 
have taken the life of any one wlio dared to say so of one 
of her pets—had deliberately gone to Guildford, and pawned 
certain pieces of flannel which had been given her to sow. 
In short, as Bell proceeded to point out, the whole neigh¬ 
borhood was in revolt. The chief administrator of justice 
and queen’s almoner of the district was up here skylarking 
in a phaeton, while her subjects down in the South had 
broken out into flagrant rebellion. History tells of a Scotch 
j)arish that suddenly rose and hanged the minister, drowned 
tlie ])recentor, and raffled the church bell. Who was now 
to answer for the safety of our most cherished parochial 
institutions when the guardian of law and order had with- 
di-awn herself into tlie regions of the mountains ? 

“ That revolt, ” it is observed, “ is the natural consequence 
of tyranny. For years you have crushed down and domi¬ 
neered over that unhappy parish ; and the unenfranchised 
millions, who had no more liberty than is vouchsafed to a 
stabled liorse or cliained dog, have risen at last. Jlort aicx 
ti/rans! Will they chase us, do you tldnk. Bell?” 

“ I am quite convinced, ” remarked my lady, deliberately 
and calmly, “ that the |>oor old woman has done nothing of 
the kind. " She could not do it. Why should she seek to 
gain a few shillings at the expense of forfeiting all the as¬ 
sistance she had to expect from mo ? ” 

“ An independent peasantry is not to bo bought over 
by pitiful bribes. ’Tis a free country: and the three balls 
ought to be placed among the insignia of royalty, instead 
of that meaningless 8j)here. Can any student of history 
now present explain the original purpo.se of that instru¬ 
ment ? ” 


2G8 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ I suppose, ” says Bell, “ that Queen Elizabeth, wlio 
always has it in her hand, used to chastise her maid-servants 
with it.” 

“ Wrong. With that weapon Henry the Eighth was 
wont to strike down and murder the good priests that in¬ 
terfered with his unholy wishes.” 

“ Henry the Eighth—” says my lady ; but just at tliis 
moment Castor caught a stone slightly with his foot, and 
the brief stumble caused my lady to mind her driving; 
so that Henry VIIL, wherever he is, may be congratulated 
on the fact that she did not finish her sentence. 

Then we ran pleasantly along the valley until we came 
in sight, once more, of Windermere. We drove round the 
foot of the green slopes of Elleray. We plunged into the 
wood, and there was all around us a moist odor of toadstools 
and fern. We went by St.Cathcrine’s and over Troutbeck 
Bridge, and so down to the lake-side by Ecclerigg House 
and Lowood. It was along this road that Bell and her 
companion had walked the night before, when the yellow 
moon rose up in the south and threw a strange light over 
Windermere. The lieutenant had said not a word about 
the results of that long interview; but they had clearly 
not been unfavorable to him, for he had been in excellent 
good spirits during the rest of the evening, and now he 
was chatting to Bell as if nothing had occurred to break 
the even tenor of their acquaintanceship. They had quite 
resumed their old relations, which was a blessing to the two 
remaining members of the party. Indeed, there was no 
bar now placed upon Bell’s singing except her own talking; 
and when a young lady undertakes to instruct her elders 
in the history, traditions, manners, customs, and peculiarities 
of Westmoreland she has not much time for strumming on 
the guitar. Bell acted the part of valet cle place to perfec¬ 
tion, and preached at us just as if we were all as great 
strangers as the lieutenant was. It is true our guide was 
not infallible. Sometimes we could see that she was in 
deep distress over tlie names of the peaks up in the 
neighborhood of the Langdale Pikes; but what did it 
matter to us which was .Scawfcll and which was Bowfell, 
or which was Great Gable and which Great End ? We had 
come to enjoy ourselves, not to correct the Ordnance Sur¬ 
vey Maps. 

“ I am afraid,” said my lady, when some proposal to 
stop at Ainbleside and climb Wansfell Pike had been 



OF A PHAETON. 


2G9 


unanimously rejected, “that we have been throughout this 
journey disgracefully remiss. We have gone to see nothing 
that we ought to have seen. We liave never paid any at¬ 
tention to ancient ruins, or galleries of pictures, or cele¬ 
brated monuments. We liave not climbed a single mountain. 
We went past Woodstock without looking in at the gates— 
we did not even go to see the obelisk on Evesham Plain—” 

“ That was because some of you drove the horses the 
wrong way,” it is remarked. 

“ Indeed, we have done nothing that we ought to have 
done.” 

“Perhaps, madame,” said the lieutenant, “that is why 
the voyage has been so pleasant to us. One cannot always 
be instmeting one’s self, like a tourist.” 

If you wish to vex my lady, call her a tourist. This sub¬ 
tle compliment of the lieutenant pleased her immensely; 
but I confess myself unable to see in what respects we were 
not tourists, except that we were a little more ignorant and 
indifferent to our ignorance, than holiday travellers gener¬ 
ally are. What tourist, for example, would have done such 
a barbaric thing as go through Ambleside without stopping 
a day there ? 

That was all along of Bell, however, who insisted on our 
spending the treasure of our leisure time upon Grasmere ; 
and who was strengthened in her demands by my lady, 
when she came in view of a considerable number of tourists 
lounging about the former town. The poor men were for 
the most part dressed as mountaineers; otherwise they 
were quite harmless. They were loitering about the main 
thoroughfare of Ambleside, with their hands in the pockets 
of their knickerbockers, gazing in at the stationer’s window, 
or regarding a brace of setters that a keeper standing in 
front of a hotel had in leash. They did not even look nar¬ 
rowly at the knees of our horses—an ordinary piece of 
polite impertinence. Tliey were well-meaning and well- 
conducted persons ; and the worst that could be said of 
them, that they were tourists, has been said about many good 
and respectable people. A man may have climbed Lough- 
rigg Fell, and yet be an attentive husband and an affection¬ 
ate father; while knickerbockers in themselves are not an 
indictable offence. My lady made no answer to these 
humble representations, but asked for how long the horses 
would have to be put up before we started again. 

Bell’s enthusiasm of the morning had given way to some^ 


270 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


thing of disappointment, which she tried hard to conceal. 
Ambleside, one of the places slie had been dreaming about 
for years, looked painfully modern now. In thinking about 
it down in our Southern home, she had shut out of the pic¬ 
ture hotels, shops, and fashionably dressed people, and had 
dwelt only on the wild and picturesque features of a neigli- 
borliood that had at one time been as familiar to her as her 
mother’s face. But now, Ambleside seemed to have grown 
big, and new, and strange ; and she lost the sense of proprie¬ 
torship which she had been exhibiting in our drive througli 
the scenery of the morning. Then Loughrigg Fell did us an 
evil turn, gathering up all the clouds that the wind had 
driven over, and sending them gently and persistently down 
into the valley of the llothay, so that a steady rain had set 
in. The lieutenant did not care much how the sky might 
be clouded over, so long as Bell’s face remained bright and 
liappy ; but it was quite evident she was disappointed, and he 
in vain attempted to reassure her by declaring that these 
two days had convinced him that the Lake country was the 
most beautiful in the world. She could not foresee then 
that this very gloom, that seemed to mean nothing but con¬ 
stant rain, would procure for us that evening by far the 
most impressive sight that wo encountered during the 
whole of our long summer ramble. 

Our discontent with Loughrigg Fell took an odd turn 
when it discharged itself upon the Duke of Wellington. 
We had grown accustomed to that foolish picture of tlie 
Waterloo Heroes, in which the Duke, in a pair of white 
pantaloons, stands in the attitude of a dancing-master, wdth 
an idiotic simper on his face. All along the road, in public- 
houses, inns, and hotels, we had met this desperate piece 
of decoration on the walls, and had only smiled a melan¬ 
choly smile when we came upon another copy. But this 
particular print seemed to be quite offensively ridiculous. 
If Henry VIH. had been inside these long white pantaloons 
and that tight coat, my lady could not have regarded the 
figure with a severer contempt. We picked out enemies 
among the attendant generals, just as one goes over an 
album of photographs, and has a curious pleasure in record¬ 
ing mental likes and dislikes produced by unknown faces. 
Somehow, all the Waterloo Heroes on this evening looked 
stupid and commonplace. It seemed a mercy that Napoleon 
was beaten ; but how he had been beaten by such a series 
of gabies and nincompops none of us could make out. 


OF A PI/AETON', 


271 


Then the lieutenant must needs grumble at the luncheon 
served up to us. It was a good enough luncheon, as hotels 
go ; and even my lady was moved to express her surprise 
that a young man who })rofessed himself able to enjoy a^/ 
thing in the way of food, and who had told us amus-^g 
stories of his foraging adventures in campaigning t’/ne, 
should care whether there were or were not lemon 'and 
bread-crumbs with a mutton-cutlet. 

“ Madame,” said the lieutenant, “ that is very well in a 
campaign, and you are glad of anything; but there is no 
merit in eating badly cooked food—none at all.” 

“ A soldier should not mind such trifles,” she said ; 
but she smiled as though to say that she agreed with him all 
the same. 

“ Well, I think,” said the young man, doggedly, “that 
is no shame that any one should know what is good to eat, 
and that it is properly prepared. It is not any more con¬ 
temptible than dressing yourself in good taste, which is a 
duty you owe to other people. You should see our old 
generals—who are very glad of some coarse bread, and a 
piece of sausage, and a tumbler of sour wine, when they 
are riding across a country in the war—how they study 
delicate things, and scientific cookery, and all that, in 
Berlin.” 

“And do you follow their example when you are at 
home ?” 

“ Not always ; I have not enough time. But when you 
come to my house in Berlin, madame, you will see what 
luncheon you shall have.” 

“ Can’t you tell us about it now?” says Tita. 

“ Pray do,” echoes Bell, after casting another reproach¬ 
ful glance at the rain out of doors. 

The lieutenant laughed : but seeing that the women 
M’ere quite serious, he proceeded in a grave and solemn 
manner to instruct them in the art of preparing luncheon. 

“First,” said ho, “you must have Russian black bread 
and French white bread cut into thin slices—but you do 
not use the black bread yet awhile ; and you rnust^ have 
some good Rhine Avine, a little warmed if it is in the winter ; 
some Bordeaux, a bottle of green Chartreuse, and some 
Champagne, if there are ladies. Now, for the first, you 
take a slice of white bread, you put a little butter on it, 
very thin, and then you open a pot of Russian caviare, 
and you put that on the slice of bread three-quarters of an 


272 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


inch thick—not less than that. You must not taste it by 
little and little, as all English ladies do, but eat it boldly, 
a^'d you will be grateful. Then half a glass of soft Rhine 
w*,'e; if it is a good Marcobrunner, that is excellent. Then 
yon eat one slice of the black bread, with butter on it, more 
thi'iiv than on the white bread. Then you have two, perhaps 
thred, Norwegian anchovies—” 

“Would you mind my writing these things down?” 
says my lady. 

The lieutenant of course assents; she produces a small 
bunch of ivory tablets, and I know the horrible purpose 
that fills her mind as she proceeds to jot down this pro¬ 
gramme. 

“You must have the caviare and the anchovies of real 
quality, or everything is spoiled. With the anchovies you 
mny eat the black bread, or the white, but I think without 
butter. Then half a glass of Rhine wine—” 

“ Those half-glasses of Rhine wine are coming in rather 
often,” remarks Bell. 

“ No, mademoiselle, that is the last of the Rhine wine. 
Next is a thin slice of w'hite bread, very thin butter, and a 
very thin slice of Bologna-sausage. This is optional—” 

“ My dear,” I say to Tita, “ be sure you put down '‘This 
is optional / ’ ” 

“ With it you have a glass of good and soft Bordeaux 
wine. 

Then, madame, we come to the reindeer’s tongue. This 
is piece de resistance^ and your guests must eat of it just 
they have their hour for dinner in the evening. Also, if 
as they are ladies, they may prefer a sparkling wine to the 
Bordeaux, though the Bordeaux is much better. And this 
is the reason : after the reindeer’s tongue is taken away, 
and you may eat an olive or two, then 2, pate de foie gras — 
real, from Strasburg—” 

“ Stop ! ” cries one of the party. “ If I have any author¬ 
ity left, I forbid the addition to that disastrous catalogue of 
another single item! I will not suffer their introduction 
into the house ! Away with them ! ” 

“ But, my dear friend,” says the lieutenant, “it is agood 
thing to accustom yourself to eat the meats of all countries ; 
you know not where you may find yourself.” 

“Yes,” says Bell, gently, “ one ought to learn to like 
caviare, lest one should be thrown on a desert island.” 

“ And why not ? ” says the persistent young man. 


OF A PIIAETOJ\r, 


273 


You fire tlirown on a desert island—you catch a sturgeon, 
you take the roe, and you know how to make very good 
caviare—” 

“ But how about the half-glass of Rhine wine?” says my 
lady. 

“You can not have everything in a desert island; but 
in a town, where you have time to study such things—” 

“ And where you can order coffins for half-past ten,” it 
is suggested. 

“ —A good luncheon is a good thing.” 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Bell, “ the rain has ceased.” 

And so it had. While we had been contemplating that 
imaginary feast, and paying no attention to changes out of 
doors, the clouds had gradually withdrawn themselves up 
the mountains, and the humid air showed no more slanting 
lines of rain. But still overhead there hung a heavy gloom; 
and along the wet woods, and on the troubled bosom of the 
lake, and up the slopes of the hills, there seemed to lie an 
ominous darkness. Should we reach Grasmere in safety ? 
The lieutenant had the horses put to with all speed; and 
presently Bell was taking us at a rapid pace into the wooded 
gorge that lies between Nab Scar and Loughrigg Fell, where 
the gathering twilight seemed to deepen with premonitions 
of a storm. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

AT NIGHT ON GRASMERE, 

“ Ye who have yearned 

With too much passion, will here stay and pity. 

For the mere sake of truth ; as ’tis a ditty 
Not of these days, but long ago ’twas told 
l!y a cavern wind unto a forest old ; 

And then the forest told it in a dream 
To a sleeping lake.” 

We drove into the solitude of this deep valley without 
uttering a word. How could we tell what the strange 
gloom and silence might portend ? Far away up the misty 
and rounded slopes of Loughrigg the clouds lay heavy and 
thick, and over the masses of Rydal Fell, on the other side 



THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


274 

of tlie gorge, an ominous darkness brooded. Down liere in 
the chasm the trees hung cold and limp in the humid air, 
crushed by the long rain. There was no sign of life abroad, 
only that we heard the rushing of the river liothay in among 
the underwood in the channel of the stream. Tliere was 
not even any motion in that wild and gloomy sky, that 
looked all the stranger that the storm-clouds did not move. 

But as we drove on, it seemed to become less likely that 
the rain would set in again. The clouds had got banked 
up in great billows of vapor; and underneath them we 
could see, even in the twilight, the forms of the mountains 
with a strange distinctness. The green of the distant slopes 
up there grew more and more intense, strengthened as it 
was by long splashes of a deep purple where the slate was 
visible; then the heavy gray of the sky, weighing upon the 
summits of the hills. 

But all this was as nothing to the wild and gloomy scene 
that met our view when we came in sight of Ilydal Water. 
Wo scarcely knew the lake we had loved of old, in bright 
days, and in sunshine, and blowing rain. Here, hidden 
away among reeds, lay a long stretch of dark slate-blue, 
with no streak of white along the shores, no ripple off the 
crags, to show that it was water. So perfect was the mirror¬ 
like surface, tliat it was impossible to say in the gathering 
gloom where the lake ended and the land began. The 
islands, the trees, the fields, and the green spaces of the 
hills, were as distinct below as above ; and where the dark- 
blue of the lake ran in among the reeds, no one could make 
out the line of the shore. It was a strange and impressive 
scene, this silent lake lying at the foot of the hills, and so 
calm and death-like that the motionless clouds of the sky 
lay without a tremor on the sheet of glass. This was not 
the llydal Water we had been hoping to sec, but a solitary 
and enchanted lake, struck silent and still by the awful 
calmness of the twilight and the presence of lowering clouds. 

We got down from the phaeton. The horses were 
allowed to walk quietly on, with Tita in charge, while we 
sauntered along the winding road, by the side of this sombre 
sheet of water. There was no more fear of rain. Tliere 
was a firmness about the outlines of the clouds that became 
more marked as the dusk fell. But although the darkness 
was coming on apace, we did not hasten our steps much, 
When should we ever again see such a picture as this, the 


OF A PHAETON. 


275 

like of whicli Bell, familiar with the sights and sounds of the 
district from her childhood, had never seen before ? 

What I have written above conveys nothing of the 
impressive solemnity and majesty of this strange sight as 
we saw^ it 5 and, indeed, I had resolv^ed, before entering the 
Lake district, to leave out of the jottings of a mere holiday 
traveller any mention of scenes which have become familiar 
to the world through the imperishable and unapproachable 
descriptions of the great masters who lived and wrote in 
tliese regions. But such jottings must be taken for what 
they are wortli—the hasty record of hasty impressions; 
and how could our little })arty have such a vision vouchafed 
to them without at least noting it down as an incident of 
their journey? 

We walked on in the darkness. The slopes of Nab 
Scar had become invisible. Here and there a white cotta^'c 
glimmered out from the roadside; and Bell knew the 
name of every one of them, and of the j)coi)le who used to 
occupy them. 

“ J Tow surprised some of our friends would be,” she 
said to Tita, “ if wo W'ere to call on them to-night, and 
walk in without saying a word ! ” 

“ They would take you for a banshee,” said my lady, 
“ on such an evening as this. Get up, Bell, and let us drive 
on. 1 am beginning to shiver—whether with fright or with 
cold, I don’t know.” 

So we got into the phaeton again, and sent the horses 
forward. Wo drove along the broad road which skirts the 
reedy and shallow end of Rydal Water, and entered the 
valley of the stream which comes flowing through the trees 
from Grasmere. It was now almost dark; and the only 
sound we could hear was that of the stream plashing along 
its rocky bed. By and by a glimmer of yellow light "was 
observed in front; and Bell having announced that this 
•was The Prince of Wales hotel, we were soon wdthin its 
comfortable precincts. In passing, we had got a glimpse of 
a dark steel-gray lake lying amidst gray mists and under 
sombre hills—that was all we knew as yet of Grasmere. 

But about an hour afterwards, when we had dined, the 
lieutenant came back from the window at which he had 
been standing for a minute or two, and said,— 

“ Mademoiselle, I have a communication for you.” 

JVLademoiselle looked up. 

“ If you will go to the window—” 


27G 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Bell rose and went directly. 

“I know,” said my lady, with a well-affected sigh. 
“ Tlie niglit has cleared up—there is starlight or moonliglit, 
or something, and I suppose we shall have to go out in a 
boat to please these foolish young people. But I think you 
will be disappointed this time. Count Von Rosen.” 

“ Why, madame ? ” 

“ This is a respectable hotel. Do you think they would 
give you a boat? Row, if there was some old lady to be 
cajoled, I dare say you would succeed—” 

“ Oh, you do think we cannot get a boat, yes ? I do 
not suppose there is any trouble about that, if only made¬ 
moiselle cares about going on the lake. Perhaps she does 
not; but you must see how beautiful this lake is at present.” 

The idea of Bell not wishing to go out on Grasmere— 
at any hour of the night—so long as there w^as a yellow 
moon rising over the dusky heights of Silver Horae! The 
girl was all in a flutter of delight when she returned from 
the window, anxious that we should all see Grasmere under 
these fine conditions, just as if Grasmere belonged to her. 
And the lieutenant, having gone outside for a few minutes, 
returned with the information that a boat was waiting 
for us. There was no triumph in his face—no exul¬ 
tation ; and it never occurred to any one to ask whether 
this young Uhlan had secured the boat by throwing the 
owner of it into the lake. The women were quite satisfied 
to accept all the pleasant things he brought them, and never 
stopped to inquire by what tyrrannical or disgraceful 
means the young Prussian had succeeded in his fell endea¬ 
vors. But at all events, he managed to kee23 out of the 
police-oflice. 

As a matter of fact, the boat was not only waiting when 
Tita and Bell, having dressed for the purpose, came down¬ 
stairs, but was supplied with all manner of nice cushions, 
plaids, rugs, and a guitar-case. The women showed a great 
deal of trepidation in stepping into the frail craft, which lay 
under the shadow of a small jetty; but once out in the 
open lake, we found sufficient light around us, and Bell, 
pulling her gray and woollen shawl more tightly around her, 
turned to look at the wonders of Grasmere, which she had 
not seen for many years. 

It was a])leasant night. All the hills and woods on the 
other side of the lake seemed for the most part in a black 
shadow; but out hero the moonlight dwelt calmly on the 


OF A PHAETON, 


277 


water, and lighted up the wooded island farther down, and 
slione along the level shores. As we went out into the silent 
])lain, the windows of the hotel grew smaller and smaller, 
until in the distance we could see them but as minute points 
of orange fire that glittered down on the black surface be¬ 
low. Then, in the perfect stillness of the night—as the 
measured sound of the rowlocks told of our progress, and 
the moonlight shone on the gleaming blades of the oars— 
we were all at once startled by a loud and hissing noise, 
that caused Tita to utter a slight cry of alarm. 

We had run into a great bed of water-weeds, that was 
all—a tangled mass of water-lily leaves, with millions of 
straight horsetails rising from the shallow lake. We pushed 
on. The horsetails went down before the prow of the boat; 
but all around us the miniature forest remained erect. The 
moonlight sparkled on the ripples that we sent circling out 
through those perpendicular lines. And then the lieutenant 
called out a note of warning, and Bell plunged her oars in 
the water just in time, for we had nearly run down two 
swans that were fast asleep in among the tall weeds. 

We forsook this shallower end of the lake, and, with 
some more hissing of horsetails, pushed out and into the 
world of moonlight and still water; and then, as Tita took 
the oars, and just dipped them now and again to give us a 
sense of motion. Bell rested her guitar on her knee, and 
began to sing to us. What should she sing under the soli¬ 
tude of the hills, when all our laughter of dinner-time was 
over, and we were as silent as the lake itself? There was 
not even a breath of wind stirring; and it was in a very low 
voice, with something of a tremor in it, that Bell began to 
accompany the faint touching of the guitar. 

“ I’ve heard the lilting at our ewe-milking ” 

—she sung, and her voice was so low and tremulous that 
Tita forgot to dip the oars into the water that she might 
listen to the girl— 

“ Lasses a lilting before the break ’o day. 

But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning- 
The Flowers o’ the Forest are a’ wede away.” 

Had Grasmere ever listened to a more pathetic ballad, or 
to a tenderer voice? It was as well, perhaps, that the lieu- 


278 


THE STRANGE ADFENTl/RES 


tenant could not see Bell's face; for as she sung the last 
verse— 


We hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-railking ; 

Women and bairns are heartless and wae ; 

Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning— 

The Flowers o’ the Forest are a’ wede away.” 

—there was a sort of indistinctness in her voice; and when 
the lieutenant said that it was the finest English song that 
he had yet heard, and that the air was so different from 
most of the old English tunes, she could not answer him for 
a minute or two. 

But when she did answer him, fancy our astonishment! 

“ It isn’t English,” she said, with just a trace of con¬ 
tempt in her tone. “ When did you find the English able 
to write a song or an air like that ? ” 

“ Grant me patience! ” cries my lady, with a fine 
theatrical appeal to the moonlight overhead. “ This girl, 
because she was born in Westmoreland, claims the posses¬ 
sion of everything north of tlie Trent.” 

“ Are not you also English, mademoiselle ? ” says the 
lieutenant. 

“ I belong to the North Country,” says Bell, proudly ; 
“ and we are all the same race up here.” 

Now you should have seen how this cue was seized by 
the lieutenant. The boy had about as much knowledge of 
tlie colonization of this country as most youths pick up at 
scliools ; but the manner in which he twisted it about to 
suit the wild and audacious statement that Bell had uttered 
was truly alarming. Before we knew where we were, we 
were plunged into the history of Strathclyde, and invited 
to consider the consistency of character that must have 
prevailed in the great Welsh kingdom that stretched from 
Dumbarton to Chester. We had also some pleasant little 
excursions into Berriicia and Deira, with abundance of 
proof that the Lowland Scotch speak the best English now 
going—a piece of information which we accepted with 
meekness. We were treated to a recapitulation of the 
settlements of the Angles, together with a learned disquisi¬ 
tion on the aims of Ida. This was all very well. It passed the 
time. Bell thought she was firmly established in her 
position. Her traditional reverence for the “ Nortp. 
Country ” and all its belongings had, it turned out, some 
definite historical justification. She had a right to claim 


OF A PHAETON'. 


270 


the songs of the Lowland Scotch;’was she not herself of 
that favored race? At length Queen Tita burst into a 
merry fit of laughter! 

“I don’t know what you mean to prove, Count Von 
Losen,” she said ; “ you prove so much. At one time you 
insist that Bell is Scotch; at another time you show us 
that she must be Welsh, if all the people in Strathclyde 
were Welsh. But look at her, and what becomes of all the 
theories ? There is no more English girl in all England 
than our Bell.” 

“ That is no harm said of her,” replies the lieutenant, 
abandoning all his arguments at once. 

“I suppose I am English,” says Bell, obstinately, “but 
I am North-country English.” 

Nobody could dispute that; and doubtless the lieuten¬ 
ant considered that Bell’s division of this realm into dis¬ 
tricts mapped out in her imagination was of much more 
importance than the idle inquiries of historians into the 
German occupation of England. Then we pulled away 
over to the island, and round underneath the shadows of 
its firs, and back through the clear moonlight to the small 
of the hotel. We entered the warm and comfortable 



building. The folks who had been dining had all gone 
into the drawing-room; but neither my lady nor Bell 
seemed inclined to venture in among the strangers; and so 
we procured a private sitting-room, in which, by good luck, 
there was a piano. 

The lieutenant sat down. 

“ Madam,” he said, “ what shall I play to you ? It is 
not since that I was at Twickenham I have touched a 
])iano—oh, that is very bad English, I know, but I cannot 
help it.” 

“ Sing the Rataplan song that Boll was humming the 
other day,” said Tita. “ You two shall sing it; you shall 
be the old Sergeant, and Bell the daughter of the Regi¬ 
ment.” 

“Yes, I can sing it,” he said ; “ but to play it—that I 
cannot do. It is too fine for my thick fingers.” 

And so he gave way to Bell, who played the accom¬ 
paniment dexterously enough, and sung with a will. You 
would have fancied that the camp was really her birthplace, 
and that she was determined to march with the foremost, 
as the good song says. The lieutenant had not half the 
tuartial ardor of this girl, who was singing of fire and 


280 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


slaughter, of battle and sudden death, ns tliough she liad 
been the eldest daughter of one of the kings of her native 
Strathclyde. And then, wlien she had finished that ])crfor- 
mance, it needed only the least suggestion of the lieutenant 
to get her to sing IMaria’s next song, “ Ciascun lo dice,*^’ so 
that you would have thought she liad the spirit of tlie 
Mdiole regiment within her. It is not a proper song. Tlie 
brave Eleventh was doubtless a very gallant regiment; but 
why should they liave taught their daughter to glorify their 
frightenings of landlords, their flirtations, their fierce flying 
liither and thither, like the famous J ger that followed 
Hoik? This is the regiment, Maria tells you, that fears 
nothing, but whom all men fear. This is the regiment 
beloved of women ; for is not each soldier sure to become 
a field-marshal? The lieutenant laughed at the warlike 
glow of her singing, but lie was mightily pleased, for all 
that. She was fit to be a soldier’s wife—this girl with the 
mantling color in her oheek, and the brave voice and 
gallant mien. With colors in her cap, and a drum slung 
round her neck, witli all the fathers of tlie regiment petting 
lier, and proud of her, and ready to drive the soul out of 
the man who spoke a rude word to her; with her arch 
ways, and her frank bearing, and her loyal and loving 
regard for the brave Eleventh—why. Bell, for the moment, 
M'as really Maria, and as bright and as fearless as any 
]\laria that ever sung Rataplan! ” Queen Tita was 
])leased too, but slie was bound to play the part of the 
stately Marchioness. With an affectionate pat on the 
shoulder, she told Bell she mustn’t sing any more of these 
soldier-songs; they were not imj)roving songs. With 
V hich—just as if she had been ordered by the Marchioness 
to leave the brave Eleventh—Bell began to sincr the plain- 
live and touching “ Convien partir.” Perhaps we may 
have heard it better sung at Drury Lane. The song is 
known in Covent Garden. But if you liad heard Bell 
sing it this night, with lier lover sitting quite silent, and 
embarrassed with a shamefaced iileasuro, and with a 
glimmer of moonlight on Grasmere visible through the 
open window, you might have forgiven the girl for her 
mistakes. 

A notion may have crossed my lady’s mind that it was 
very hard on Arthur that Bell should in his absence have 
been singing these soldicr-son^s with so much obvious en- 
Ijoymcnt. Was it fair that this young Uhlan should flutter 


OF A rJIAETOA^ 


281 

his mfirtial scfirlet and blue and gold before the girl’s oyes, 
and dazzle her with romantic pictures of a soldier’s life ? 
What chance had the poor law-student, coming out from 
his dingy chambers in the Temple, with bewildered eyes, 
and pale face, and the funereal costume of the ordinary 
English youth? We know how girls are attracted by 
show, how their hearts are stirred by the passing of a regi¬ 
ment with music playing and colors flying. The padded 
uniform may enclose a nutshell sort of heart, and the gleam¬ 
ing helmet or the imposing busby may surmount the feeblest 
sort of brain that could with decency have been put within 
a human skull; but what of that? Each feather-bed warrior 
who^ rides from Knightsbridge to Whitehall, and from 
Whitehall to Knightsbridge, is gifted with the glorious 
traditions of great armies and innumerable campaigns ; 
and in a ballroom the ass in scarlet is a far more attrac¬ 
tive spectacle than the wise man in black. Perhaps Arthur 
was not the most striking example that might have been 
got to add point to the contrast; but if any such thoughts 
were running through Queen Tita’s mind, you may be sure 
that her sympathies were awakened for a young man whose 
chances of marrying Bell were becoming more and more 
nebulous. 

And then my lady sat down to the piano, and conde¬ 
scended to play for us a few pieces, with a precision and a 
delicacy of fingering which were far removed from Bell’s 
performances in that way. I suppose you young fellows 
who read this would have regarded with indifference the 
dark-eyed little matron who sat there and unravelled the 
intricacies of the most difficult music. You would have 
kept all your attention for the girl who stood beside her ; 
and you would have preferred the wilder and less finished 
playing of Bell, simply because she had fine eyes, pretty 
hair, a wholesome English pleasantness and frankness, and 
a proud and gracious demeanor. But a few years hence 
you may come to know better. You may get to understand 
the value of the quiet and unobtrusive ways of a woman 
who can look after a household, and busy herself with mani¬ 
fold charities, and bring up her children well and scrupu¬ 
lously, and yet have a tender smile for the vagaries of young 
folks like yourselves. And then, if it is your excellent 
fortune to have with you so gentle and fearless and honest 
a companion—if your own life seems to be but the half of 
the broader and fuller existence that abides beneath your 


282 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


roof—you may do worse than go down on your knees and 
tliank God wlio has blessed your house with the presence 
of a good wife and a good mother. 

Tales shall not be told out of school. We may have 
sat a little late that night. We were harming no one by 
so doing, except ourselves; and if our health suffered by 
such late hours, we were prepared to let it suffer. For the 
fact was, we drifted into talk about our Surrey home; and 
now that seemed so far away, and it seemed so long since 
we had been there, that the most ordinary details of our 
by-gone life in the South had grown picturesque. And 
from that Tita began to recall the names of the people she 
had known in the Lake district, in the old time, when Bell 
was but a girl, running about the valleys and hillsides like 
a young goat. That, too, carried us back a long way, until 
it seemed as if we had drifted into a new generation of 
things that knew nothing of the good old times that were. 
There was a trifle of regret imported into this conversation 
—why, no one could tell; but when we broke up for the 
night, Tita’s face was rather saddened, and she did not fol¬ 
low Bell when the girl called to her to look at the beautiful 
night outside, where the rapidly sinking moon had given 
place to a host of stars that twinkled over the black gulf of 
Grasmere. 

It is no wonder that lovers love the starlight, and the in¬ 
finite variety, and beauty, and silence of the strange dark¬ 
ness. But folks who have got beyond that period do not 
care so much to meet the mystery and solemnity of the 
night. They may have experiences they would rather not 
recall. Who can tell what bitterness and grievous heart¬ 
wringing are associated with the wonderful peace and 
majesty of the throbbing midnight sky? The strong man, 
with all his strength fled from him, has gone out in his utter 
misery, and cried, “ Oh, God, save my wife to me ! ” And 
the young mother, with her heart breaking, has looked up 
into the great abyss, and cried, “ Oh, God, give me back my 
baby ! ” and all the answer they have had was the silence of 
the winds and the faint and distant glimmer of the stars. 
They do not care any more to meet the gaze of those sad, 
and calm, and impenetrable eyes. 


OF A PHAETON, 


283 


CHAPTER XXIV. 
akthur’s soxg. 

** Along the grass sweet airs are blown 
Our way this day in spring. 

Of all the songs that we have known, 

Now which one shall we sing ? 

Not that, my love, ah no ! 

Not this, my love ? why, so! 

Yet both were ours, but hours will come and go, 

“ The branches cross above our eyes. 

The skies are in a net: 

And what’s the thing beneath the skies 
We two would most forget ? 

Not birth, my love—no, no; 

Not death, my love—no, no. 

The love once ours, but ours long hours ago.” 

We stood at the open window—ray lady, Bell, and I—• 
with the calm lake lying before us as darkly blue as the 
heart of a bell-llower, and with the hills on the other side 
grown gray, and green, and hazy in the raorning sunlight. 
Bell had brought us thither. The lieutenant was outside, 
and we could hear him talking to some one, although he had 
no idea of our presence. Was it fair to steal a march on 
the young fellow, and to seek to learn something of the 
method by wliich he became familiarly acquainted with 
every man, woman, and child we met on our journey? In 
such matters I look to Tita for guidance. If she says a 
certain thing is proper, it is proper. And at this moment 
she was standing just inside the curtains, listening, with a 
great amusement on her face, to the sounds which reached 
us from below. 

“ Ay, ah wur born in eighteen hunderd—that’s a long 
time’ ago—a long time ago,” said a quavering old voice, that 
was sometimes interrupted by a fit of asthmatic coughing; 
“ and you don’t remember the great comet—the comet of 
eighteen hunderd an’ eleven ? No ! See that now ! And 
ah wur a boy at that time; but I can remember the great 
comet of eighteen hunderd an’ eleven—I remember it well 
now—and ah wur born in eighteen hunderd. How long 
ago is that, now ? ” 


284 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Whj, that’s easily counted,” said the lieutenant ; 
“that’s seventy-one years ago. But you look as hale and as 
fresh as a man of forty.” 

“ Seventy-one—ay, that it is—and you don’t remember 
the comet of eighteen hunderd an’ eleven ? ” 

“No, I don’t. But how liave you kept your health and 
your color all this time ? That is the air of the mountains 
gives you this good health, I suppose.” 

“ Lor bless ye, ah don’t belong to these parts. No. Ah 
wur born in the New Forest, in eighteen hunderd—Ring- 
wood, that’s the place—that’s in the New Forest, a long 
way from eear. Do you know Ringwood ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Nor Poole?” 

“No.” 

“ Lor bless ye ! Never been to Poole ! Do ye know 
Southampton ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Bless my soul I Never been to Poole? There now ! 
And you don’t know Southampton, where all the ships are ? 
—ay, a famous sight o’ ships, I can tell ye. And you’ve 
never been to Southampton—Lor bless ye, you ain’t much 
of a traveller ! But there now, ain’t you a Frenchman? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Go along with you ! Not a Frenchman ? An’ you 
don’t know Poole ? It’s a big place, Poole, and ah reckon 
it’s grown bigger now, for it’s many a year ago since ah 
wur there. When ah wur a boy—that’s many a year ago 
'—for ah remember well the great comet, in eighteen hun¬ 
derd an’ eleven—you don’t remember that? No! God 
bless my soul, you’re only a boy yet! And ah wur born 
seventy year ago ; and when ah went up to Lunnon, ah wur 
such a simple chap ! ” 

We could hear the old man laughing and chuckling, un¬ 
til a fit of coughing seized him, and then he proceeded :— 

“Ah wur taking a bridle down to my mahster, and— 
what’s the bridge you go over ? Dear me, dear me! my 
memory isn’t as good as it once was—” 

And at this point the old man stopped, and puzzled and 
hesitated about the name of the bridge, until the lieutenant 
besought him never to mind that, but to go on with liLs 
story. But no. He would find out the name of the bridge ; 
and after having repeated twenty times that he was born in 


OF A PHAETON. 285 

1800, and could remember the comet of 1811, he hit upon 
the name of Blackfriars. 

“ An’ there wur a chap standin’ there, as come up to me 
and asked me if I would buy a silk handkerchief from him. 
He had two of ’em—Lor bless ye, you don’t know what 
rare good handkerchiefs we had then—white, you know, 
wi’blue spots on ’em: they’re all gone out now, for it’s 
many a year ago. And that chap he thought ah’d bin sel- 
lin’ a OSS ; and he made up to me, and he took me into a 
small public-’ouse close by, and says he, ‘ Ah’ll be sworn a 
smart young fellow like you’ll ’ave a tidy bit o’ money in 
your pocket.’ An’ ah wur a smart young fellow then, as 
he said, but, God bless you, that’s many a year ago; an’ 
now, would you believe it ? that chap got five shillins out 
o’ me for two of his handkerchiefs—he did indeed, as sure 
as I’m alive. Wasn’t it a shame to take in a poor country 
chap as wur up doing a job for his mahster ? ” 

“ Five shillings for two silk handkerchiefs with blue 
spots ? ” said the lieutenant. “ Why, it was you who did 
swindle that poor man. It is you that should be ashamed. 
And you took away the bridle safe ? ” 

“ Ay, ah wur goin’ down to Winchester. Do ye know 
Winchester ? ” 

“No.” 

“Ha! ha! ha! Ah thought not! No, nor Poole? 
Have you ever been to Bristol ?—there now ? ” 

‘ My dear friend, there are few men so great travellers 
as you have been. You should not boast of it.” 

“ But, Lor bless ye, don’t ye know the ships at Poole ? 
And Winchester—that’s a fine town, too, is Winchester. 
Ah'd a month at Winchester when ah wur a young man.” 

“ A month ! What do you mean by that ? ” 

“Yes, that ah did. Lor, they were far stricter then 
than they are now.” 

“ But what was this month you are speaking about? ” 

“ Don’t ye know what a month in jail is for ketchin’ a 
rabbit ? ” 

“ Oh, it was a rabbit, was it ? ” 

The wicked old man laughed and chuckled again. 

“ Ay,” said he, “ ah got one month for ketchin one rab¬ 
bit, but if they’d ’ave gi’en me a month for every rabbit 
and hare as ah’ve ketched. Lor’ bless ye!—you young fel¬ 
lows nowadays know nothin’! You’re simple chaps, that’s 
what it is! Have you ever heard of the great comet of 


286 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


eighteen hunderd an' eleven? There now! And tlio 
crowds as come out to see it—stretchin’ out—long—jest as 
it might be the long gown as mothers put on young things 
Avhen they’re carried about; and that wur in eighteen ’un- 
derd an’ eleven. But I’m gettin’ old now and stiH; and 
them rheumatics they do trouble one so when they come on 
bad in the night-time. I’m not what I was at your age— 
you’ll be thirty noAv, or forty mayhap ? ” 

“ Nearer thirty.” 

“ Ah never ’ad so much hair as you—it wur never the 
fashion to wear hair on the face at that time.” 

“And you followed the fashion, of course, when you 
were a young fellow, and went courting the girls—yes ? ” 

This hint seemed to wake up the old man into a high 
state of glee; and as he began to'tell of his exploits in this 
direction, he introduced so many unnecessary ejaculations 
into his talk that my lady somewhat hastily withdrew, drag¬ 
ging Bell with her. The old rogue outside might have been 
■with our army in Flanders, to judge by the force of his 
conversation ; and the stories that he told of his wild ail- 
ventures in such distant regions as Poole and Southampton 
showed that his memory treasured other recollections than 
that of the 1811 comet. How the conversation ended I 
do not know; but by and by Von Rosen came in to break¬ 
fast. 

It is a shame for two women to have a secret under¬ 
standing between them, and look as if they could scarcely 
keep from smiling, and puzzle a bashful young man by 
enigmatical questions. 

“ Madame,” said the lieutenant, at last, “ I am very 
stupid. I cannot make out what you mean.” 

“ And neither can she,” observes one who hates to see 
a worthy young man bothered by two artful women. “ Her 
joke is like the conundrum that was so good that the man 
who made it, after trying for two years and a half to find 
out what it meant, gave it up, and cut liis throat. Don’t 
you heed them. Cut the salad, like a good fellow, and let 
Bell put in the oil, and the vinegar, and uhat not. Now, 
if that girl would only take out a patent for her salad-dress¬ 
ing, we should all be rolling in wealth directly.” 

“ I should call it the Nebuchadnezzar,” said Bell. 

My lady pretended not to hear that remark, but she 
was very angry; and all desire of teasing the lieutenant 
had departed from her face, which was serious and reserved. 


OF A PHAETON. 


287 


Young people must not pl.ay pranks with Scripture names, 
ill however innocent a fashion. 

“It is a very good thing to have salad at breakfast,’* 
said the lieutenant; “ although it is not customary in youi 
country. It is very fresh, very pleasant, very wholesome 
in the morning. Now, if one were to eat plenty of salad, 
and live in this good mountain air, one might live a long 
time—” 

“ One might live to remember the comet of eighteen 
’underd an’ eleven,” observes Bell, with her eyes cast down. 

The lieutenant stared for a moment, and then burst into 
a roar of laughter. 

“ I have discovered the joke,” he cried. “ It is that 
you did listen to that old man talking to me. Oh, he was» 
a very wicked old person—” 

And here, all at once. Von Rosen stopped. A grent 
flush of red sprung to the young fellow’s face; he was 
evidently contemplating with dismay the possibility of my 
lady having overheard all the dragoon-language of the old 
man. 

“ We only heard up to a certain point,” says madam, 
sedately. “ When he began to be excited, Bell and I with¬ 
drew.” 

The lieutenant was greatly relieved. The septuagen¬ 
arian was not a nice person for ladies to listen to. Indeed, 
in one direction he was amply qualified to have written a 
“ Dialogue between a Man and a Cat: being a Discussion 
as to which would like to use the most Bad Danguage when 
the Tail of the Latter is trodden upon.” Such an essay 
would be instructive in results, but objectionable in tone. 

All this while we had heard nothing of Arthur. That 
morning when Tita sent down to inquire if there w'ere any 
letters for us at the post-ofiice and found there were none, 
she must needs send an urgent telegram to Twickenham, 
to see if the young man’s parents knew anything of his 
whereabouts. Of course they could not possibly know. 
Doubtless he was on his way to Carlisle. Perhaps we 
should have the pleasure of meeting him in Edinburgh. 

But this indefinite postponement of the coming of Arthur 
was a grievous irritation to the lieutenant. It was no re¬ 
lief to him that his rival was disposed to remain absent. 
The very odd position in which he was now placed made 
him long for any result that would put an end to his sus¬ 
pense ; and I think he was as anxious about seeing Arthur 


288 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


as any of US —that is to say, presuming Arthur to be certain 
to come sooner or later. If it should happen tliat the dog¬ 
cart had been upset—But there is no use in speculating on 
the horrible selfishness that enters into the hearts of young 
men who are in love and jealous. 

All these things and many more the young Prussian re¬ 
vealed to the sympathetic silence of Grasmere and the fair 
green mountains around, as he and I set out for a long walk. 
Tiie women had gone to pay visits in the village and its 
neigliborhood. It seemed a pity to waste so beautiful a day 
in going into a series of houses; but my lady was inexorable 
whenever she established to her own satisfaction that she 
owed a certain duty. 

The lieutenant bade Bell good-by with a certain sad¬ 
ness in his tone. He watched them go down th'e white 
road, in the glare of the sunshine, and then he turned with 
a listless air to set out on liis pilgrimage into the hills. Of 
what avail was it that the lake out there shone a deep and 
calm blue under the clear sky, that the reflection of the 
wooded island was perfect as the perfect mirror, and that 
the far hills had drawn around them a thin tremulous veil 
of silver gauze under the strong heat of the sun ? The 
freshness of the morning, when a light breeze blew over 
from the west, and stirred the reeds of the lake, and awoke 
a white ripple in by the shore, had no effect in brightening 
up his face. He was so busy talking of Bell, and of Arthur, 
and of my lady, that it was with a serene unconsciousness 
he allowed himself to be led away from the lake into the 
lonely regions of the hills. 

Even a hardy young Uhlan finds his breath precious 
when he is climbing a steep green slope, scrambling up shelves 
of loose earth and slate, and clinging on to bushes to help 
him in his ascent. There were interruptions in this flow of 
lover’s complainings. After nearly an hour’s climbing. Von 
Rosen had walked and talked Bell out of his head; and as 
he threw himself on a slope of Rydal Fell, and pulled out a 
flask of sherry and his cigar-case, he laughed aloud, and 
said,— 

“No, I had no notion we were so high. Hee! that is a 
view ! one does not see that often in my country—all houses 
and men swept away—you are alone in the world—and all 
around is nothing but mountains and lakes.” 

Indeed, there was away towards the south a network 
of hill and water that no one but Bell would have picked to 


OF A FJ/AETOA^ 


289 


pieces for us—thin threads of silver lying in long valleys, 
and mounds upon mounds rising up into the clear blue sky 
that sloped down to the white line of the sea. Coniston we 
could make out, and W indermere we knew. Esthwaite we 
guessed at; but of what avail was guessing, when we came 
to that wild and beautiful panorama beyond and around ? 

The lieutenant’s eyes went back to Grasmere, 

“ IIow long is it you think madam will pay her visits ? ” 

‘‘ Till the afternoon, probably. They will lunch with 
some of their friends.” 

“ And we—do we climb any more mountains ?” 

“ This is not a mountain—it is a hill. We shall climh 
or go down again just as you please.” 

“ There is nothing else to do but to wait if we gc 
down ?” 

“ I suppose you mean waiting for the ladies to return. 
No; our going down won’t bring them back a minute the 
sooner.” 

“ Then let us go on, anywhere.” 

We had a long, aimless, and devious wandering that day 
among the grassy slopes and peaks of Rydal Fell, until we 
at length came down by the gorge through which Rydal 
Beck plunges, foaming into the valley below. Wherever 
we went, the lieutenant seemed chiefly to be concerned in 
making out the chief places of beauty which we should 
bring the women to see on the morrow—as if Bell did not 
know Rydal Beck and all its falls as well as she knew Wal¬ 
ton Heath. And then we got down the winding road by 
Rydal Mount, and walked leisurely back by Rydal Water 
to Grasmere. 

What was this that confronted us as we went into the 
hotel, and went forward to the large windows ? The sun 
was lying brightly on the hills, and the lake, and the gar¬ 
den in front of us; and on the lawn—which was a blaze of 
bright color—three figures stood, throwing jet-black 
shadows on the green. Von Rosen stared, as well he might 
stare. For there were Bell and Tita, engaged in earnest 
and interesting talk with a young man ; and the young man 
was Arthur. 

For a second or two the lieutenant did not utter a word ; 
but.presently he remarked, with a fine affectation of care¬ 
lessness,— 

“ Have they had lunch, do you think ? ” 


200 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ Let us go and see,” I say; and so our Uhlan stalks 
gloomily out into the garden. 

Our appearance seemed to cause great embarrassment 
to the party on the lawn. Arthur, with a flush on his face 
greeted us stifily; and then he suddenly turned to Queen 
Tita, and continued his talk with her in an ostentatiously 
impressive manner, as though he would give us to under¬ 
stand that he would take no more notice of us. Bell ap¬ 
parently, had been rather left out in the cold. Perhaps 
she was a little vexed—for even the most amiable of girls 
have their notions of pride—and so what must she do but 
immediately turn to the lieutenant, and ask him with much 
friendliness all about his forenoon’s ramble. 

If thankfulness, and kindliness, and all the modest and 
grateful respect of love were ever written on a young man’s 
face, they dwelt in the eyes of our Uhlan as he was almost 
struck dumb by this signal mark of Bell’s condescension. 
He took no great advantage of the permission accorded to 
him. He did not seek to draw her away. In fact, after 
telling mademoiselle, with his eyes cast down, that he 
hoped she would come next day to see all that we had 
seen, he placed the burden of explanation on me, who 
would rather have sat in the back benches and looked from 
a distance at this strange comedy. 

But the effect upon Arthur of this harmless conduct ol 
Bell’s was what might have been expected. When we 
turned to go into the hotel for luncheon, he was talking in 
rather a loud way, with a fine assumption of cynicism. He 
had not much to tell of his adventures, for the reason of his 
coming up so late was merely that the cob had gone a little 
lame, and had been brought with some care to Kendal, 
where it was to have a couple of days’ rest; but his conver¬ 
sation took far wider sweeps than that. The climax 
of it came when we were sitting at the table. All this time 
the lad had not addressed a word to Bell; but now he sud¬ 
denly observed,— 

“‘You remember that song of Lover’s you used to sing, 
about the white sails flowing? ” 

“ Yes,” said Bell: she had often sung it to him at his 
own request. 

“ It is a pretty song,” said he, with rather a ghastly 
smile; “ but I heard a version of it the other night that I 
thought was a good deal truer. Shall I try to repeat the 
verses ? ” 


OF A PHAETON’. 291 

“ Yes, do,” says Queen Titania, with no great cordiality 
in her tone. She half anticipated what was coming. 

“ This is the lirst verse,” said the young man, glancing 
ratlier nervously at Bell, and then instantly withdrawing 
his eyes: — 

“ What will you do, love, when I am going. 

With white sails flowing, the seas beyond ? 

What will you do, love, when waves divide us, 

And friends may chide us, for being fond ? ” 

“ When waves divide us, and friends are chiding. 

After abiding. I’ll think anew ; 

And I’ll take another devoted lover. 

And I’ll kiss him as I kissed you.” 

A frightful silence prevailed. We all of us knew that 
the reckless young man was rushing on self-destruction. 
Could he have devised a more ingenious method of insult¬ 
ing Bell ? He proceeded : 

What will you do, love, if distant tidings 
Thy fond confidings shoukf undermine ? 

And I abiding ’neath sultry skits 
Should think other eyes were as bright as thine ? ” 

“ Ah, joyful chance ! If guilt or shame 
Were round thy name could I be true ? 

For I’d take the occasion, without much persuasion, 

To have another flirtation—that’s what I’d do.” 

If there are angels who watch over the fortunes of un- 
happy lovers, surely they must have wept at this moment. 
These foolish verses, and another one which fear of my lady 
prevents my publishing here, were the actual outcome of all 
the rebellious thoughts that had been rankling in his mind 
like poison during these last few days. Along the lonely 
liighway, this was the devil’s dirge he had been crooning to 
himself. He had fed on its unholy bitterness as he sat in 
remote inns, and pictured to himself, with a fierce satisfac¬ 
tion, the scene in which he would recite the lines to Bell 
before the whole of us. 

And now the deed was done. He sat silent for a mo¬ 
ment, and we were all of us silent. A waiter said, “ Sherry, 
sir ? ” behind his ear, and he started. And then Queen Tita 
turned to Von Rosen, and asked him if he had seen Rydal 
Mount. 


292 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


It was a pitiable thing. In public life a man may force 
liimself into the chancellorship of the exchequer, or some 
such office, by departing into a Cave of Adullam, and mar¬ 
shalling the discontented around l)im; but in love affairs, 
how is a man to profit by an exhibition of angry passion 
and recklessness ? Force is of no avail; threatening is as 
idle as the wind. And there was something even more 
cruel than threatening in this recitation of the young man’s, 
as only those who were familiar with our life in Surrey 
could understand. What miglit come of it no one could 
tell. 

{Note hy Queen Titania. —“ I am no judge of wliat ouglit to be 
])laced before the public. I leave that to those whose sense of good 
taste SLTid proper feeling is-prohahly better than mine. But if these 
most impertinente verses are to be published, I have to say that the 
implication contained in the first verse is criielly/aise. To hint that 
Bell could have thought of kissing either Arthur or the lieutenant— 
or would have done so if they were Princes of the Blood —is most un¬ 
just and insulting to a girl whose pride and self-respect no one has ever 
dared to impeach, It is all very well for a stupid young man to say 
such things in a fit of ungovernable rage; but what I know is that 
Bell cried very much about it, when she spoke to me about it after¬ 
ward. And both my husband and Count Von Rosen sat still, and 
never said a word. If I had been a man, I think I should have told 
Arthur very plainly Avhat I thought of his very pretty conduct. But 
I suppose they considered it a jest , for I have frequently found that 
the notions of gentlemen about what -is humorous are a little pecu¬ 
liar 


CHAPTER XXV. 


ARMAGEDDON. 

“ Let us go hence, my songs ; she will not hear. 

Let us go hence together without fear ; 

Keep silence now, for singing-time is over, 

And over all old things and all things dear. 

She loves not you nor me as all we love her. 

Yea, though we sung as angels in her ear, 

She would not hear."’ 

• Blow, wind ! and shriek, tempests ! Let all the gases 
be lowered, and thunder roll through the gloom ! Tremble, 
ye forests of canvas, where twisted oaks and shattered elms 



OF A PHAETOxV. 


293 


bear witness to the agony of the scene; and let the low 
music of the violonoello and the throbbing of muffled 
drums announce that dreadful deeds are brewing! Alas ! 
we had no such thrilling accompaniments to the tragedy 
being enacted before our eyes on the fair shores of Gras¬ 
mere. The lake lay as blue and as calm as though n(» per¬ 
plexed and suffering human souls were by its side; and in¬ 
stead of the appropriate darkness of a theatre, we had the 
far hills trembling under the white haze of the midday 
heat. Yet my lady saw none of these things. Her heart 
was rent asunder by the troubles of the young folks under 
her charge, until I seemed to see in her speechless eyes a 
sort of despairing wish that she had never been born. 

“ And yet,” I say to her, “ you don’t see the worst of it. 
If Arthur is driven away by Bell, a far more terrible thing 
will befal him.” 

“ What ? ” says Queen Titania, with the clear, brown 
eyes grown solemn. 

“He will marry somebody else.” 

“ Bah ! ” she says, peevishly; “ is this the time to be 
thinking of jests ? ” 

“ Indeed, I know one who never discovered the joke of 
it. But don’t you think that he will ? ” 

“ I wish he would.” 

“ There’s little Katty Tatham, now, would give her ears 
to marry him.” 

“ You always fancy girls are very anxious to marry.” 

“ I never asked but one, and I found her ready enough.” 

“ I refused you.” 

“You made a pretence of doing so.” 

“ I wish 1 had kept to my first resolution.” 

“ I wish you had, since you say so. But that’s of no 
consequence. I saved you from committing suicide, as I 
have frequently told you.” 

The small creature looks up, and with an excellent 
calmness and self-composure, says,— 

“I suppose you never heard of a young man—I thought 
him very silly at the time, myself—who walked about all 
night, one night at Eastbourne; and in the morning, long 
before my mamma was up, aroused the servants, and sent in 
a letter—a sort of ultimatum it was—with all sorts of vows 
of vengeance and despair. That young man wasn’t Arthur 
Ashburton; but when you complain of Arthur s mad 
follies—” 


294 Tim STRANGE ADVENTURES 

“ Madam,” I say to her, “ your sex protects you. Go 
and live. But when you say that I complain of Arthur, 
and in the next breath accuse me of always bringing for¬ 
ward excuses for him—” 

But what was the use of continuing the argument? My 
lady smiles with a fine air of triumph, confident that her 
ingenious logic had carried the day, as in fact, it generally 
does. The man who endeavors to follow, seize and confront 
the airy statements made by a lady in a difficulty resembles 
nothing so much as a railway-train trying to catch a butter¬ 
fly ; and who would not back the butterfly? 

We were now placed in an uncommonly awkward fix. 
The arrival of Arthur at Grasmere had produced a com¬ 
plication such as we had not dreamed of; for now it ap¬ 
peared as if the situation were to be permanent. We had 
somehow fancied that, as soon as he overtook us, some de¬ 
finite arrangement would be come to, settling at once and 
forever those rival pretensions which were interfering with 
our holiday in a serious manner. At last, my lady had con¬ 
sidered, the great problem was to be finally solved ; and, of 
course, the solution lay in Bell’s hands. But, now Arthur 
had come, who was to move in the matter? It was not for 
Bell, at all events, to come forward and say to one of the 
young men “ Go! ” and to the other “ Stay! ” Neither of 
them, on the other hand, seemed disposed to do anything 
bold and heroic in order to rid us of this grievous embar¬ 
rassment; and so the first afternoon passed away—with 
some more walking, visiting, and boating—in a stolidly and 
hopelessly reserved and dreary fashion. 

But every one of us knew that a mine lay close by, and 
that at any moment a match might be flung into it. Every 
word that was uttered was weighed beforehand. As for 
Tita, the poor little woman was growing quite pale and 
fatigued with her constant and nervous anxiety; until one 
of the party privately told her that if no one else asked 
Bell to marry, he would himself, and so end our troubles. 

“ I don’t know what to do,” she said, sitting down and 
folding her hands on her knees, while there was quite a 
pitiable expression on her face. “I am afraid to leave 
them for a moment. Perhaps now they may be fighting; 
but that does not much matter, for Bell can’t have gone 
downstairs to dinner yet. Don’t you think you could get 
Arthur to go away ? ” 

“ Of what use would that be ? He went away before ; 


OF A PHAETON’. 


295 


and then we had our steps dogged, and letters and tele¬ 
grams in every town. No ; let us have it out here.” 

“ I wish you and he would have it out between you. 
That poor girl is being frightened to death.” 

“ Say but one brief word, my dear, and Arthur will be 
feeding the fishes among the reeds of Grasmere before the 
morning. But would you really like Bell to send Arthur 
off ? Is he really to be told that she won’t marry him ? 
They used to be pets of yours. I have seen you regard 
them, as they walked before us along the lanes, with an 
amiable and maternal smile. Is it all over? Would you 
like him to go away, and never see us any more? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know ! ” cries Tita, with the anxiety and 
pity and tenderness in her eyes almost grown into tears. 

That was a nice little project of hers with which we 
had started from the old tavern in Holborn. It had been 
tolerably successful. If Bell were not in love with the 
lieutenant, there could be no doubt, at least, that the 
lieutenant was hopelessly and over head and ears in love 
with Bell. It was a pretty comedy for a time; and my 
lady had derived an infinite pleasure and amusement from 
watching the small and scarcely perceptible degrees by 
which the young folks got drawn towards each other. 
What would have been the beautiful pictures of English 
scenery we had driven through, without two young lovers 
in the foreground, trying to read their fate in each other’s 
eyes, and affording us elderly folks all manner of kindly 
and comic reminiscences? 

It had all turned out very well; until, suddenly, came 
the revelation that the greatest happiness of the greatest 
number had demanded a human victim ; and here he was 
before us, with gory locks and piteous eyes, demanding 
justice. Never before had my lady fully realized what was 
meant in the final sending away of Arthur; and now that 
she saw before her all the consequences of her schemes, she 
was struck to the heart, and dared scarcely ask for some 
re-assurance as to what she had done. 

“ Oh,” she says, “ I hope I have done right! ” 

“You? Why should you assume any responsibility^ 
Let the young folks arrange their own affairs as they like 
best. Do you think, if Bell had been willing to break with 
Arthur, that your packing off the lieutenant to Germany 
w'ould prevent lier making the acquaintance of some other 
man ? And she has not broken off with Arthur. If she 


296 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


does so, she does so, and there’s an end of it; but why 
should you vex yourself about it ? ” 

She was not to be comforted. She shook her head, 
and continued to sit there with her eyes full of anxious 
cares. When at length she went off to dress hastily for 
dinner, it was with a determination that from that moment 
she would endeavor to help Arthur in every way she could. 
That was the form her repentance took. 

If the young man had only known that he had secured 
such a valuable ally! But just at this time—amidst all 
our perplexity as to who should first precipitate matters, 
what should the reckless fellow do but startle us all with a 
declaration which wholly altered the aspect of affairs ! 

We were seated at dinner. It was in the private room 
we had engaged, and the evening light, reflected from the 
lake outside, was shining upon Tita’s gentle face as she sat 
at the head of the table. Bell was partly in shadow. The 
two young men, by some fatal mischance, sat next each 
other: probably .because neither wished to take the unfair 
advantage offered by the empty seat next to Bell. 

Well, something had occurred to stir up the smoulder¬ 
ing fires of Arthur’s wrath. He had been treated Avith 
great and even elaborate courtesy by everybody—but 
more particularly by Bell—during our afternoon rambles; 
but something had evidently gone wrong. There was a 
scowl on the fair and handsome face, that was naturally 
pleasant, boyish, and agreeable in appearance. He main¬ 
tained a strict silence for some little time after dinner was 
served, although my lady strove to entice him into the 
general talk. But presently he looked up, and, addressing 
her, said, in a forcedly merry way,- 

“ Should you like to be startled ? ” 

“ Tita would probably have said, so anxious 

is she to humor everybody; but just then he added, in the 
same reckless and defiant tone,— 

“ What if I tell you I am going to get married ? ” 

An awful consternation fell upon us. 

“ Oh,” says my lady, in a hurried fashion, “ you are 
joking, Arthur.” 

“ Ho, I am not. And when I present the young lady 
to you, you will recognize an old friend of yours, whom you 
haven’t seen for years.” 

To put these words down on paper can give no idea 
whatever of the ghastly appearance of jocularity which 



OF A PHAETON. 


297 


accompanied them, nor of the perfectly stunning effect they 
produced. The women were appalled into silence. Von 
Kosen stared, and indifferently played with the stem of his 
wine-glass. For mere charity’s sake, I was driven into 
filling up this horrible vacuum of silence ; and so I asked— 
with what show of appropriateness married people may judge 
—whether he had formed any plans for the buying of 
furniture. 

Furniture ! ’Tis an excellent topic. Everybody can 
say something about it. My lady with a flash of gratitude 
in her inmost soul, seized upon the cue, and said,— 

“ Oh, Arthur, have you see our sideboard? ” 

Now, when a young man tells you he is about to get 
married, it is rather an odd thing to answer “ Oh^ Arthur 
—or Tom, or Dick, or Harry, as the case may be— have you 
seen our sideboard? ” But all my lady wanted was to 
speak ; for Arthur, having accomplished his intention of 
startling us, had relapsed into silence. 

“ Of course he has seen the sideboard,” I say for 
him. “ He was familiar with the whole of that fatal trans¬ 
action.” 

“ Why f^ital ? ” says the lieutenant. 

You see, we were getting on. 

“ Bell will tell you the history. No ? Then I will, for 
the benefit of all folks who may have to furnish a liouse ; 
and I hope Arthur—after the very gratifying announce¬ 
ment he has just made—will take heed.” 

“Oil yes,” says Arthur, gayly, “let us have all your 
experience about house matters. It is never too soon to 
learn.” 

“Very well. There was once a sideboard which lived 
in Dorking-” 

Here the lieutenant begged to know what piece of 
furniture a sideboard was ; and when this was explained to 
him, the legend was continued :— 

“ It was a very grand old sideboard of carved oak, 
which had regarded the dinner-parties of several genera¬ 
tions from its recess. At last it bad to be sold at public 
auction. A certain agreeable and amiable lady, who lives 
on the banks of the river Mole, saw this sideboard, and 
was told she might have it for a trifle of ninety-five guineas. 
She is an impressionable person. The sideboard occupied 
her thoughts day and night; until at last her husband, who 



298 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


is the most obliging person in the world, and has no other 
desire in life than to obey her wishes-” 

Here there was some interruption at the farther end of 
the table. Silence having been restored, the speaker went 
on to say that the sideboard was bought. 

“ It was the beginning of the troubles of that wretched 
man. When you have an old oak sideboard that farmers’ 
wives will drive twenty miles to look at, yOu must have 
old oak chairs. When you have old oak chairs, a microce¬ 
phalous idiot would know that you must have an old oak 
table. By slow degrees the home of this unhappy man 
underwent transformation. Rooms that had been familiar 
to him, and homely, became gloomy halls from which 
ghosts of a cheerful temperament would have fled in de¬ 
spair. People came to dinner, and sat in the high-backed 
chairs with an expression of resigned melancholy on their 
faces ; and now and again an unlucky lady of weight and 
dimensions would, on trying to rise from the table, tilt up 
the chair and save herself from falling by clinging to 
the arm of the man next her. For, of course, you 
can’t have castors on old oak chairs, and when the stumps 
of wood have got well settled into the thick Turkey-carpet, 
how is the chair to be sent back ? ” 

“ That is quite absurd,” says a voice. “ Every one says 
our dining-room chairs are exceedingly comfortable.” 

“ Yours are; but this is another matter. Now the 
lady of the house did not stop at oak furniture and solemn 
carpets and severe curtains. She began to dress herself 
and her children to match her furniture. She cut the hair 
of her own babes to suit that sideboard. There was noth¬ 
ing heard of but broad lace collars, and black-velvet gar¬ 
ments, and what not; so . that the boys might correspond 
with the curtains, and not be wholly out of keeping with 
the chairs. She made a dress for her own mother, which 
that estimable lady contemplated with profound indigna¬ 
tion, and asked how she could be expected to appear in 
decent society in a costume only lit for a fancy ball.” 

“ It was a most beautiful dress, wasn’t it. Bell? ” says a 
voice. 

“But far worse was to come. She began to acquire a 
taste for everything that was old and marvellous. Slio 
kept her husband for hours stifling in the clammy atmos¬ 
phere of Soho, while she ransacked dirty 8hoj)s for scraps 
of crockery tliat were dear in proportion to their ugliness. 



OF A PHAETON’. 


209 


During these hours of waiting he thought of many things 
—suicide among the number. But what he chiefly ruminated 
on was the pleasing and ingenious tlieory that in decoration 
everything that is old is genuine, and everything that is new 
is meretricious. He was not a person of profound accom¬ 
plishments—” 

“ Hear, hear ! ” says a voice. 

—“ and so he could not understand why he should 
respect the intentions of artists who, a couple of centuries 
ago, painted fans and painted them badly, and why he 
sh.ould treat with scorn the intentions of artists who at 
this moment paint fans, and paint them well. He could 
not acquire any contempt for a Frencli vase in gold and 
white and rose-color, even when it was put beside a vase 
some three hundred years of age which was chiefly con¬ 
spicuous by its defective curves and bad color. As for 
Italian mirrors and blue and white china, he received with¬ 
out emotion the statement that all the world of London was 
wildly running after these things. He bore meekly the 
contemptuous pity bestowed on him when he expressed 
the belief that modern Venetian glass was, on the whole, 
a good deal more beautiful than any he had seen of the old, 
and when he proposed to buy some of it as being more 
within the means of an ordinary person. But when at last, 
after having waited a mortal hour in a dingy hole in a 
dingy thoroughfare near Leicester Square, he was goaded 
into rebellion, and declared that he did not care a brass 
farthing, nor even the half of that sum, when an object of 
art was made, how it was made, where it was made, or by 
whom it was made, so long as it fulfilled its first duty of 
being good in design and workmanship and agreeable to 
the eye—it seemed to him that the end of his conjugal 
happiness was reached. Nothing short of a legal separation 
could satisfy the injured feelings of his wife. That she 
should have to live with this Goth and outer barbarian 
seemed to her monstrous. But at this time it occurred to 
lier that she might find some use for even such a creature, 
considering that he was still possessed of a little money—” 

“ You seldom omit to bring that forward,” says the 
voice. 

—“ and that there was a drawing-room to be transformed. 
Then he beheld strange things. Phantom curtains of black 
and gold began to steal into the house. Hidden mysteries 
dwelt in the black, yellow, and red of the carpet; and 


300 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


visitors paused upon the threshold for a moment to collect 
their wits, after the first stun of looking in. Then all the 
oil of Greenland was unable to light up tliis gloomy chamber 
in the evening; and so there came down from London 
mighty sheets of mirrors to be let into the walls. ‘ Now,’ 
said this reckless woman to her husband, ‘ we must have a 
whole series of dinner-parties, to ask everybody to como 
and see what the house looks like.’ ” 

“ Oh, what a story ! ” cries that voice again. “ Bell, 
did you ever hear the like of that? I wonder he does not 
say we put the prices on the furniture and invited the people 
to look at the cost. Yo-u don’t believe it, do you. Count 
Von Rosen?” 

“ No, madame.” said the lieutenant; “ I do not believe 
any lady exists such as that one which he describes.” 

“ But he means me,” says Tita. 

“Then what shall I say?” continues the young man. 
“ May I say that I have never seen—^not in England, not 
in Germany—any rooms so beautifully arranged in the 
colors as yours ? And it was all your own design ? Ha ! 
—I know he is calling attention to that for the purpose of 
complimenting you—that is it.” 

Of course, that mean spirited young man took every 
opportunity of flattering and cajoling Bell’s chief adviser ; 
but what if he had known at this moment that she had 
gone over to the enemy, and mentally vowed to help 
Arthur by every means in her power? 

She could not do much for him that evening. After 
dinner we had a little music, but there was not much life or 
soul in it. Arthur could sing an ordinary drawing-room 
song as well as another, and we half expected him to reveal 
his sorrow in that way; but he coldly refused. The lieu¬ 
tenant, at my lady’s urgent request, sat down to the piano, 
and sung the song that tells of the maiden who lived “ im 
Winkel am Thore ; ” but there was an absence of that spon¬ 
taneity which generally characterized his rough and ready 
efforts in music, and, after missing two of the verses, he got 
over his task with an air of relief. It was very hard that 
the duty of dispelling the gloom should have been thrown 
on Bell; but when once she sat down and struck one or two 
of those minor chords which presaged one of tlie old ballads 
we found a great refuge from our ernbarrassmeut. We 
were in another world then—with Chloe plaiting flowers in 
her hair, and Robin hunting in the greenwood with his fair 


OF A PHAETON. 


301 


lady, who was such a skilful archer, and all the lasses and 
lads kissing each other round the Maypole. With what a 
fine innocence Bell sung of these merry goings-on ! I daro 
say a good many well-conducted young persons would have 
stopped with the stopping of the dancing, and never told 
what happened after the fiddler had played “ Packington’s 
Pound ” and “ Sellinger’s Round.” But our Bell, with no 
thought of harm, went merrily on,— 

“ Then after an hour 
They went to a bower, 

And played for ale and cakes, 

And kisses too— 

Until they were due 
The lasses held the stakes. 

The girls did then begin 

To quarrel with the men, 

And bid them take their kisses back, 

And give them their own again! ” 

In fact, there was a very bright smile of amusement on her 
face, and you could have fancied that her singing was on 
the point of breaking into laughter; for how could the girl 
know that my lady was looking rather reserved at the 
mention of that peculiar sort of betting ? But then the con¬ 
cluding verse comes back to the realms of propriety ; and 
Bell sung it quite gently and tenderly, as though she, too, 
were bidding good-by to her comj^anions in a frolic; 

“ ‘ Good-night,’ says Harry ; 

‘ Good-night,’ says Mary ; 

* Good-night,’ says Dolly to John ; 

‘ Good-night,’ says Sue 
To her sweetheart Hugh ; 

* Good-night,’ says every one. 

Some walked, and some did run, 

Some loitered on the way, 

And bound themselves by kisses twelve 
To meet next holiday— 

And bound themselves by kisses twelve 
To meet next holiday! ” 

“Mademoiselle,” said Von Rosen, coming forward to 
her with quite a paternal air, “ you must not sing any more 
to-night. You are always too ready to sing for us; and you 
do not reflect of the fatigue.” And as Bell stood rather em¬ 
barrassed by this exhibition of thoughtfulness, and as 
Arthur glowered gloomily out from his corner, the lieutenant 


802 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


made some excuse for himself and me, and presently we 
found ourselves out by the shores of the lake, smoking a 
contemplative cigar under the clear starlight. 

‘‘ Now, my good friend,” he said, suddenly, “ tell me— 
is it a lie, yes ? ” 

“ Is what a lie ? ’* 

“ That foolish story that he will be married,” 

“ Oh, you mean Arthur. I had almost forgotten what 
he said at dinner. Well, perhaps it is a lie : young men in 
love are always telling lies about something or other.” 

“ Heh ! ” says the lieutenant, peevishly : “ you do know it 
is not true. How can it be true ? ” 

“ Of course you want me to say that I think it true : you 
boys are so unreasonable. I don’t know anything about it. 
I don’t care. If he wants to marry some girl or other, I hope 
lie may. The wish is perhaps not very friendly—” 

“ Now look at this ! ” says the lieutenant, quite fiercely, 
and in a voice so loud that I was afraid it might reach the 
windows of the hotel that were now sending a yellow light 
over the lawn : “ if he means to marry some other young 
lady, why is he here? He has no business here. Why 
does he come here to annoy every one and make himself 
miserable ? He ought to go away; and it is you that should 
send him away.” 

“ Bless me ! Surely a man may come and stop at a 
hotel at Grasmere without asking my permission. I have 
no right to forbid Arthur remaining in Westmoreland or 
any other county. He does not ask me to pay his bills.” 

“ This that madame says it is quite true, then,” says 
the lieutenant, angrily, “that you care only for your own 
comfort! ” 

“ When madame says such things, ray good friend, she 
retains the copyright. Don’t let her hear you repeating 
them, if you are wise, or you’ll get into trouble. As for 
myself, this cigar is excellent, and you may let your vexa¬ 
tion take any shape that is handy. I foresaw that we should 
soon have two Arthurs in the field.” 

The tall young soldier walked up and down for a min¬ 
ute or two, evidently in great distress, and at last he stopped 
and said, in a very humble voice,— 

“ My dear friend, I beg your pardon. I do not know 
what I say when I see this pitiful fellow causing so mucli 
pain to your wife and to mademoiselle. Now, when you 


OF A PHAETOIT, 


803 


look at them—not at me at all—will not you endeavor to 
do something ? ” 

He was no great hand at diplomacy, tliis perplexed 
and stammering Uhlan, who seemed bent on inflicting his 
anger on his cigar. To introduce the spectacle of two suf¬ 
fering women so as to secure the banishment of his rival 
was a very transparent device, and might have provoked 
laughter, but that Grasmere is deep, and a young man in 
love exceedingly irritable. 

“ He says he is going to marry some other girl: what 
more would you like ? You don’t want to carry off all his 
sweethearts from the unfortunate youth?” 

“ But it is not true.” 

“ Very well.” 

“ And you talk of carrying off his sweetheart. Made¬ 
moiselle was never his sweetheart, I can assure you of that; 
and, besides, I have not carried her off, nor am likely to do 
that, so long as this wretched fellow hangs about, and 
troubles her much with his complainings. Now, if she will 
only say to me that I may send him away, I will give you 
my word he is not in this part of the country, no, not one 
day longer.” 

“ Take care. You can’t commit murder in this country 
with impunity, except in one direction. You may dispose 
of your wife as you please; but if you murder any reasona¬ 
ble being, you will suffer.” 

Indeed, the lieutenant, pacing up and down the narrow 
path by the lake, looked really as if he would have liked to 
catch Arthur up and dash him against Mercator’s Projection 
or some other natural phenomenon ; and the more he con¬ 
templated his own helplessness in the matter, the more he 
chafed and fumed. The moon rose slowly from behind the 
hills, and ran along the smooth surface of the lake, and 
found him nursing this volcano of wrath in his breast. But 
suddenly, a5 he looked up, he saw the blind of one of the 
hotel-windows thrust aside, and he knew that Bell was- 
there, contemplating the wonderful beauties of the sky 
He ceased his growlings. A more human expression came 
over his face; and then he proposed that we should go in, 
lest the ladies should want to say good-night. 


304 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES' 


% 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE LAST OF GRASMEEE. 


“Muss aus dem Thai jetzt scliieden, 

Wo alles Lnst und Klang; 

Pas ist mein lierbstes Leiden, 

Mein letzter Gang! 

Pich, mein stilles Thai, 

Grass’ ich tansend Mai! 

Pas ist mein herbstes Leiden, 

Mein letzter Gang!” 

A STILL greater surprise was in store for us next morn¬ 
ing. My lady had taken leave to discredit altogether the 
story of Arthur’s approaching marriage. She regarded it 
as merely the wild and reckless utterance of vexation. For 
the young man’s sake, she hoped that no one would make 
any allusion to this topic, and that he himself would allow 
it to fall into the rapidly running waters of oblivion. 

Now, he had on the previous day despatched a message 
to Kendal to the effect that the dog-cart should be at once 
sent to him, if the cob had quite recovered. He proposed 
to accompany us as far as Penrith or Carlisle; farther than 
that he said he did not care to go. But as the trap was 
likely to arrive that forenoon, and as he had to see the man 
who would bring it, he begged us to start for our forenoon’s 
walk by ourselves—a proposal which was accepted with 
equanimity by the whole of our party. The young man 
W'as quite complaisant. My lady was very attentive to 
him ; and we thought we should start for our ramble with 
the consciousness that we had left behind us no wretched 
creature eating away his heart with thoughts of revenge. 

Somehow this mood passed rapidly away from him. 
The spectacle of Bell and the lieutenant planning with a 
great joy the outline of our morning excursion seemed to 
bring back all the bitterness of his spirit. He was silent 
for a long time—until, indeed, we were ready to leave the 
liotel; and then, as he accompanied us to the door, he pro¬ 
duced a letter, and said, with an affectation of carelessness. 

“ By the way, I have a message for you. It was lucky 


OF A PHAETON. 


305 


I thought of going round to the post-office this morning, or 
I should have missed this. Katty Tatham desires to be re¬ 
membered to you all, and hopes you will bring her ba-ck 
a piece of Scotch heather to show that you went all the 
way. Ta-ta ? ” 

He waved his hand to us, and went in. My lady looked 
at me solemnly, and said nothing for a moment, until Bell 
iiad passed along the road a little bit with the lieutenant. 

“Is that another story, do you think? Do you believe 
that Katty Tatham is actually in correspondence with him ? ” 

“He did not say so.'’ 

“ He meant that we should infer it, at all events: and 
that, after Avhat he said last night—” 

Tita was dreadfully puzzled. She could understand how 
vexation of spirit might drive a foolish young man into 
making a statement not wholly in accordance with fact ; 
but that he should repeat this legend in another way, and 
bring the name of a lady into it—no, Tita could scarcely 
believe that all this was untrue. 

She hurried up to Bell, and placed her hand within the 
young lady’s arm. 

“ Is it not strange that Katty Tatham should be writing 
to Arthur, if that was what he meant? ” 

“ Oh no, not at all. They are very old friends ; and, 
besides, she does all the letter-writing for her papa, who is 
almost blind, poor old man ! And what a nice girl she is, 
isn’t she, Tita ? ” 

Of course we were all anxious to persuade each other 
that Katty Tatham was the very nicest girl in all England, 
although none of us except Bell had seen her for two or 
three years; and it was wonderful how this sort of talk 
brightened up the spirits of our party. The lieutenant grew 
quite interested in Katty Tatham. He was nearly praising 
her himself, although he had never heard her name until 
that moment. In short, the four of us were ready to swear 
that this poor little Katty was just as pleasant, and honest, 
and pretty, and charming a girl as was to be found any¬ 
where in the world, or out of it, and that it was most singu¬ 
lar that she had never married. Tita declared that she 
knew that Katty had had ever so many offers, and that it 
was not alone the frailties of her father that kept her from 
mai'rying. 

“ Slie must have been waiting for some one,” said the 
email woman, rather slyly. 


306 


THE STRANGE AD VENTURES 


What a morning it was ! As we walked along the 
white road, in the stillness of the heat, the blue waters, of 
Grasmere glimmered through the trees. Never had wo 
seen the colors of Bell’s Fairyland.so intense. The hills in 
the distance had a silvery haze thrown over their pale pur¬ 
ples, but here around us the sharp clear colors blazed in 
the sunshine—the deep-blue of Grasmere, the yellow-white 
of the road, and the various rich greens and browns of the 
trees and the shore. And then, by and by, we came in 
sight of Rydal Water. How different it was to the weird 
and gloomy lake we had found two evenings before lying 
buried between the hills ! Now it seemed shallow and 
fair and light, with a gray shimmer of wind across its sur¬ 
face, breaking here and there the perfect mirror of the 
mountain-slopes and woods. In the absolute silence around 
us we could hear the water-hens calling to each other; and 
out there among the reeds w^e could see them paddling 
about, dipping their heads into the lake, and fluttering their 
wings. We walked on to Rydal Bridge, and had a look at 
the clear brown rivulet rushing down its narrow channel 
between the thick underwood and the trees. We took the 
lieutenant up to Rydal Mount—the small house with its 
tree-fuchsias standing bright and warm in the sunshine— 
and from the plateau in front beheld the great fair land¬ 
scape around the silver-white lake of Windermere. We 
went up to the falls of Rydal Beck, and, in short, went the 
round of the ordinary tourist—all for the sake of our Prus¬ 
sian friend, we persuaded ourselves. Bell was his guide, 
and he looked as though he would have liked to be led for¬ 
ever. Perhaps he took away with him but a confused rec¬ 
ollection of all the interesting things she told him; but 
surely, if the young man has a memory, he cannot even 
now have forgotten that bright, clear, warm day that was 
spent about Rydal, with a certain figure in the foreground 
that would have lent a strange and gracious charm to a far 
less beautiful picture. 

“ Is it not an odd thing,” I say to Queen Titania, who 
has been pulling and plaiting wild flowers in order to let 
the young folks get ahead of us, “how' you associate certain 
groups of unheeding trees and streams and hills with various 
events in your life, and can never get over the impression 
that they wear such and such a look? ” 

“ I dare say it’s quite true, but I don’t understand,” she 
says, with the calm impertinence that distinguishes her. 


OF A PHAETON. 


307 


“If you will cease for a moment to destroy your gloves 
by pulling these weeds, I will tell you a story which will 
convey my meaning to your small intellect.” 

“ Oh, a story,” she says, with a beautiful sigh of resigna¬ 
tion. 

“ There was a young lady once upon a time who was 
about to leave England and go with her mamma to live in 
the Southwest of France. They did not expect to come 
back for a good number of years, if ever they came back. 
And so a young man of their acquaintance got up a fare¬ 
well banquet at Richmond, and several friends came down 
to the hotel. They sat in a room overlooking the windings 
of the river, and the soft masses of foliage, and the far land¬ 
scape stretching on to Windsor. The young man had, a 
little time before, asked the young lady to marry him, and 
she refused; but he bore her no malice—” 

“ He has taken care to have his revenge since,” says 
Tita. 

“ You interrupt the story. They sat down to dinner on 
this summer evening. Every one was delighted with the 
view; but to this wretched youth it seemed as though the 
landscape w^ere drowned in sadness, and the river a river 
of unutterable grief. All the trees seemed to be saying 
good-by, and when the sun went down it was as though 
it would never light up any other day with the light of by¬ 
gone days. The mist came over the trees. The evening 
fell, slow, and sad, and gray. Down by the stream a single 
window was lighted up, and that made the melancholy of 
the picture even more painful, until the young man, who 
had eaten nothing and drank nothing, and talked to people 
as though he were in a dream, felt as if all the world had 
grown desolate, and was no more worth having—” 

“If I had only known,” says Tita, in a voice so low and 
gentle that you could scarcely have heard it. 

“ And then, you know the carriages came round ; and 
he saw her, with the others, come downstairs prepared to 
leave. He bade good-night to the mamma, who got into 
the carriage. He bade good-night to her ; and she was 
about to get in too, when she suddenly remembered that 
she had left some flowers in the dining-room, and ran back 
to fetch tliem. Before he could oveitake her she had got 
the flowers, and was coming back through the passage into 
the hall. ‘It isn’t good night, it is good-by, wo must say ’ 
—I think he said something like that; and she held out her 


308 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


hand ; and somehow there was a very strange look in her 
eyes, just as if she were going to cry— But, you know, 
there’s no use in your crying just now about it.” 

Tita is pretending to smile, but a certain tremor of the 
lips is visible ; and so the narrator hurries on :— 

“ Now look here. For the next three months—for the 
soft-hearted creature had hurriedly whispered that she 
might return to England then—that young man haunted 
Richmond. He pretty nearly ruined his prospects in life, 
•and his digestion as well, by continual and solitary dining 
at The Star and Garter. He could have kissed the stone 
steps of that hotel, and never entered its vestibule without 
blessing the white pillars and blank walls. He spent hours 
in writing letters there—” 

“ So that the Biarritz boatmen wondered why so many 
envelopes should have the Richmond postmark,” says Tita ; 
though how she could have learned anything about it good¬ 
ness only knows. 

—“ and haled out every complaisant friend he could lay 
hands on to moon about the neighborhood. But the strange 
thing is this: that while he was in love with the vestibule 
of the hotel, he never saw the twilight fall over the Rich¬ 
mond woods without feeling a cold liand laid on his heart; 
and when he thinks of the place now—with the mists com¬ 
ing over the trees and the river getting dark—he thinks 
that the view from Richmond Hill is the most melancholy 
in all the world.” 

“ And what does he think of Eastbourne ? ” 

“ That is a very different thing. He and she got into 
the quarrelling stage there—” 

“ In which they have successfully remained to the pres¬ 
ent time.” 

“ But when she was young and innocent, she would al¬ 
ways admit that she had begun the quarrel.” 

“ On the contrary, she told stories in order to please 
him.” 

“ That motive does not much control her actions nowa¬ 
days, at all events.” 

Here Tita would probably have delivered a crushing 
reply, but that Bell came up and said,— 

“ What! you two children fighting again! What is it 
all about ? Let me be umpire.” 

“ He says that there is more red in the Scotch daisies 
than in the English daisies,” says Tita, calmly. It was well 


OF A PHAETON 


309 


(lone. Yet yon should hear her lecture her two boys on 
the enormity of telling a fib. 

How sad Bell was to leave the beautiful valley in which 
we had spent this happy time ! Arthur had got his dog¬ 
cart ; an<i when the phaeton was brought roun(l, the major’s 
cob was also put to, and both veliioles stood at the 
door. We took a last look at Grasmere. “ Dich, mein 
stilles Thai! ” said Bell, with a smile ; and the lieutenant 
looked quite shamefaced with pleasure to hear her quote his 
favorite song. Arthur did not so well like the introduc¬ 
tion of those few words. He said, with a certain air of in- 
d ifference,— 

“ Can I give anybody a seat in the dog-cart ? It would 
be a change.” 

“ Oh, thank you; I should like so much to go with you, 
Arthur,” says Tita. 

Did you ever see the like of it? The woman has no 
more notion of considering her own comfort than if she 
]jad the hide of an alligator, instead of being, as she is, 
about the most sensitive creature in the world. However, 
it is well for her—if she wdll permit me to say so—that she 
has people around her who are not quite so impulsively 
generous; and on this occasion it was obviously necessary 
to save her from being tortured by the fractious complain¬ 
ings of this young man, whom she would have sympathized 
with and consoled if the effort had cost her her life. 

“No,” I say. “That won’t do. We have got some 
stiff hills to climb presently, and some one must remain in 
the phaeton while the others walk. Now, who looks best 
in the front of the phaeton ? ” 

“Mamma, of course,” says Bell, as if she had discovered 
a conundrum; and so the matter was settled in a twink- 
ling. 

I think it would have been more courteous for Arthur 
to have given the phaeton precedence, considering who was 
driving it; but he was so anxious to show off the paces of 
Major Quinet’s cob, that on starting he gave the animal a 
touch of the whip that made the light and high vehicle 
spring forward in a surprising manner. 

“ Young man, reflect that you are driving the father of 
a family,” I say to him. 

Nevertheless, he went through the village of Grasmere 
at a considerable rate of speed ; and when we got well up 
into tlie road which goes by the side of the Rothay into 


310 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


the region of the hills, we found that we had left Tita and 
her company far behind. Then he began to walk the cob. 

“ Look here ! ” he said, quite fiercely; “ is Bell going 
to marry that German fellow ? ” 

“ How do I know ? ” I answer, astonished by the young 
man’s impudence. 

“You ought to know. You are her guardian. You 
are responsible for her ? ” 

“ To you?” 

“ No, not to me ; but to your own conscience : and I 
think the way in which you have entrapped her into mak¬ 
ing the acquaintance of this man, of whom she knows 
nothing, doesn’t look very well. I may as well say it when 
I think it. You ought to have known that a girl at her 
age is ready to be pleased with any novelty; and to draw 
her away from her old friends—I suppose you can explain 
it all to your own satisfaction—but I confess that to me—” 

I let the young man rave. He went on in this fashion 
for some little time, getting momentarily more reckless and 
vehement and absurd in his statements. If Tita had only 
known what she had escaped ! 

“ But, after all,” I say to him when the waters of this 
deluge of rhetoric had abated, “ what does it matter to 
you? We have allowed Bell to do just as she pleased; 
and perhaps, for all we know, she may regard Count Von 
Kosen with favor, although she has never intimated such a 
thing. But what does it matter to you ? You say you are 
going to get married.” 

“ So 1 shall! ” he said, with an unnecessary amount of 
emphasis. 

“ Katty Tatham is a very nice girl.” 

“ I should think so ! There’s no coquetry about her, or 
that sort of vanity that is anxious to receive flattery from 
every sort of stranger that is seen in the street—” 

“ You don’t mean to say that that is the impression you 
liave formed of Bell? ” 

And here all his violence and determination broke down. 
In a tone of absolute despair he confessed that he was be¬ 
side himself, and did not know what to do. What should 
he do ? Ought he to implore Bell to promise to marry him ? 
Or should he leave her to her own ways, and go and seek a 
solution of his difficulties in marrying this pretty little girl 
down in Sussex, who would make him a good wife and teach 
him to forget all the sufferings he had gone through ? The 


OF A PHAETON. 


311 


wretched young fellow was really in a bad way ; and there 
were actually tears in his eyes when he said that several times 
of late he had wished he had the courage to drown himself. 

To tell a young man in this state that there is no woman 
in the world worth making such a fuss about, is useless. He 
rejects with scorn the cruel counsels offered by middle-age, 
and sees in them only taunts and insults. Moreover, he 
accuses middle-age of not believing in its own maxims of 
worldly prudence; and sometimes that is the case. 

“At all events,” I say to him, “you are unjust to Bell 
in going on in this wild way. She is not a coquette, nor 
vain, nor heartless ; and if you have anything to complain 
of, or anything to ask from her, why not go direct to her¬ 
self, instead of indulging in frantic suspicions and accusa¬ 
tions ? ” 

“ But—but I cannot,” he said. “ It drives me mad to 
see her talking to that man. If I were to begin to speak to 
her of all this, I am afraid matters would be made worse.” 

“ Well take your own course. Neither my wife nor my¬ 
self have anything to do Avith it. Arrange it among your¬ 
selves ; only, for goodness’ sake, leave the women a little 
peace.” 

“ Do you think I mean to trouble them ? ” he says, fir¬ 
ing up. “ You will see.” 

What deep significance lay in these words was not in¬ 
quired into, for we had now to descend from the dog-cart. 
Far behind us we saw that Bell and Count Von Rosen were 
already walking by the side of the phaeton, and Tita talk¬ 
ing to them from her lofty seat. We waited for them until 
they came up, and then we proceeded to climb the steep 
road that leads up and along the slopes of the mighty 
Ilelvellyn. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said the lieutenant, “ who is it will say 
that there is much rain in your native country ? Or did 
you alarm us so as to make this surprise all the better, 
yes ? ” 

Indeed, there was scarcely a flake of white in all the blue 
overhead ; and, on the other side of the great valley, the 
masses of the Wyth^urn and Borrodaile Fells showed their 
various hues and tints so that you could almost have fancied 
them transparent clouds. Then the road descended, and we 
got down to the solitary shores of Thirlmere, the most 
JScotch-looking, perhaps, of the English lakes. Here the 
slopes of the hills are more abrupt, houses are few and far be- 


812 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


tween, there is an aspect of remoteness and a perfect silence 
reigning over the still water, and the peaks of mountains 
that yuu see beyond are more jagged and blue than the 
rounded hills about Windermere. From the shores of 
Thirlrnere the road again rises, until, when you come to the 
crest of the height, you find the leaden-colored lake lying 
sheer below you, and only a little stone wall guarding the 
edge of the precipitous slope. We rested the horses here. 
Bell began to pull them handfuls of Dutch clover and grass. 
The lieutenant talked to my lady about the wonders of 
mountainous countries as they appeared to people who had 
been bred in the plains. Arthur looked over the stone wall 
down into the great valley ; and was he thinking, I wonder 
whether the safest refuge from all his troubles might not 
be that low lying and silent gulf of water that seemed to be 
miles beneath him ? 

When we were about to start again, the lieutenant says 
to Arthur,— 

“If you are tired of driving the dog-cart, you might 
come into the phaeton, and I will drive your horse on to 
Kesv.dck.” 

Who prompted him to maKe such an offer? Not him¬ 
self surely. I had formed a tolerable opinion of his good¬ 
nature ; but the impatient and fretful manner in which he 
had of late been talking about Arthur rendered it highly 
im])robable that this suggestion was his own. What did 
Bell’s downcast look mean ? 

“ Thank you, I prefer the dog-cart,” said Arthur coldly. 

“ Oh, Arthur,” says Bell, “You’ve no idea how steep 
the hill is going down to Keswick, and in a dog-cart too—” 

“I suppose,” says the young man, “that I can drive a 
dog-cart down a hill as well as anybody else.” 

“At all events,” says the lieutenant, with something of 
a frown, “ you need not address mademosielle as if that 
she did you harm in trying to prevent you breaking your 
neck.” 

This was getting serious ; so that there was nothing for 
it but to bundle the boy into his dog-cart and order the 
lieutenant to change places with my lady. As for the 
writer of these pages—the emotions he experienced while 
a mad young fellow was driving him in a light and high 
dog-cart down the unconscionable hill that lies above Kes¬ 
wick, he will not attempt to describe. There are occur¬ 
rences in life which it is better to forget; but if ever he 


OF A PHAETON'. 


313 


was tempted to evoke maledictions on the hot-headedncss, 
and bad temper, and general insanity of boys in love— 
Enough ! We got down to Keswick in safety. 

Now we had got among the tourists, and no mistake. 
The hotel was all alive with elderly ladies, who betrayed 
an astonishing acquaintance with the names of the moun¬ 
tains, and apportioned them off for successive days as if 
they were dishes for luncheon and dinner. The landlord 
undertook to get us beds somewhere, if only we would 
come into his coffee-room, which was also a drawing-room, 
and had a piano in it. He was a portly and communi¬ 
cative person, with a certain magnificence of manner which 
was impressive. He betrayed quite a paternal interest in 
Tita, and calmly and loftily soothed her anxious fears. In¬ 
deed, his assurances pleased us much, and we began rather 
to like liim; although the lieutenant privately remarked 
that Cliquot is a French word, and ought not, under any 
circumstances whatever, to be pronounced “ Clikot.” 

Then we went down to Derwentwater. It was a warm 
and clear twilight. Between the dark-green lines of the 
hedges we met maidens in white with scarlet opera-cloaks, 
coming home through the narrow lane. Then we got into 
the open, and found the shores of the silver lake, and got 
into a boat and sailed out upon the still waters, so that we 
could face the wonders of a brilliant sunset. 

But all that glow of red and yellow in the northwest 
was as nothing to the strange gradations of color that ap- 
])eared along the splendid range of mountain peaks beyond 
the lake. From the remote north round to the southeast 
they stretched like a mighty wall; and whereas near the 
gold and crimson of the sunset they were of a warm, roseate, 
and half transparent-purple, as they came along into the 
darker regions of the twilight they grew more and more 
cold in hue and harsh in outline. Up there in the north 
they had caught the magic colors so that they themselves 
seemed but light clouds of beautiful vapor; but as the eye 
followed the line of twisted and mighty shapes, the rose- 
color deepened into purple, the purple gi-ew darker and 
more dark, and greens and blues began to appear over tlie 
wooded islands and shores of Derwentwater. Finally, 
away down there in the south there was a lowering sky, 
into which rose wild masses of slate-colored mountains, and 
in the threatening and yet clear darkness that reigned 
among these solitudes we could see but one small tuft of 


314 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


white cloud that clung coldlj to the gloomy summit of 
Glaramara. 

That strange darkness in the south boded rain ; and, as 
if in anticipation of the wet, the fires of the sunset went 
down, and a gray twilight fell over the land. As we 
walked home between the tall hedges there was a chill 
dampness in the air; and we seemed to know that we had 
at last bade good-by to the beautiful weather that liad 
lighted up for us the blue water and green shores of Gras¬ 
mere. 

[Note by Queen Titania. —“ I begin to think the old lady in Nott- 
inghamshire'liad some excuse for what she said, although she need 
not have expressed herself so rudely. Of course it is impossible to 
put down all that we spoke about on those happy days of our jour¬ 
ney ; but when all the ordinary talk is carefully excluded^ and every¬ 
thing spiteful retained, I cannot wonder that a stranger should think 
that my husband and myself do not lead u very jAeasant life. It 
looks very serious when it is put in type; whereas we have been driven 
into all this nonsense of quarrelling merely to temper the excessive 
sentimentality of those young folks, which is quite amusing in its 
way. Indeed I am afraid that Bell, althoiigh she has never said a 
word to that effect to me, is far more deeply pledged than one who 
thinks he has a great insight into such affairs has any notion of. I 
am sure it was none of my doing. If Bell had told me she was en¬ 
gaged to Arthur, nothing could have given me greater pleasure. In 
the meantime, I hope no one will read too literally the foregoing 
pages, and think that in our house we are continually treading on 
lucifer matches and frightening everybody by small explosions. I 
suppose it is literary urUhat compels such a perversion of the truth ! 
And as for Chapter XXVI.—which has a great deal of nonsense in 
it about Richmond—I should think that a very good motto for it 
would be two lines I once saw quoted somewhere—I don’t know 
who is the author ; but they said,— 

“ ‘ The legend is as true, I undertake, 

As Tristram is, or Lancelot of the LakeT^'l 


OF A PHAETON, 


315 


% 


CHAPTER XXVIL . 

ALONG THE GRETA. 

You stood before me like a thought, 

A dream remembered in a dream. 

But when those meek eyes first did seem 
To tell me, Love within you wrought— 

O Greta, dear domestic stream! 

Has not, since then. Love’s prompture deep, 
lias not Love’s whisper evermore. 

Been ceaseless as thy gentle roar ? 

Sole voice, when other voices sleep. 

Bear under-song in Clamor’s hour.” 

“ Now, Bell,” says Tita, “ I am going to ask you a seri¬ 
ous question.” 

“Yes, mama,” says the girl, dutifully. 

“Where is the North Country?” 

Good gracious 1 This was a pretty topic to start as we 
sat idly by the shores of Derwentwater, and watched the 
great white clouds move lazily over the mountain peaks be¬ 
yond. For did it not involve some haphazard remark of 
Bell’s, which would instantly plunge the lieutenant into tlie 
history of Strathclyde, so as to prove, in defiance of the 
first principles of logic and the ten Commandments, that 
the girl was altogether right? Bell solved the difficulty in 
a novel fashion. She merely repeated, in a low and careless 
voice, some lines from the chief favorite of all her songs :— 

“ While sadly I roam, I regret my dear home. 

Where lads and young lasses are making the hay. 

The merry bells ring, and the birds sweetly sing. 

And maidens and meadows are pleasant and gay: 

0! the oak and the ash, and the bonny ivy-tree, 

They grow so green in the North Countree! ” 

“ But where is it ? ” says Tita. “ You are always look¬ 
ing to the North and never getting there. Down in Oxford, 
you were all anxiety to get up to Wales. Once in Wales, 
you hurried us on to Westmoreland. Now you are in 
Westmoreland, you are still hankering after the North, and 
I want to know where you mean to stop. At Carlisle ? Or 
Edinburgh ? Or John o’ Groat’s ? ” 


316 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


The little woman was becoming quite eloquent in her 
quiet and playful fashion, as she sat there with Bell’s hand 
in hers. The girl looked rather embarrassed, and so, of 
course, the lieutenant, always on the lookout for such a 
chance,«must needs whip up his heavy artillery and open fire 
on Bell’s opponent. 

“ No, madame,” he says; “ why should you fix down 
that beautiful country to any place? Is it not better to 
have the dream always before you? You are too practi¬ 
cal—” 

Too practical! This from an impertinent young Ulilan 
to a gentle lady whose eyes are full of wistful visions and 
fancies from the morning to the night! 

‘‘ —It is better that you have it like the El Dorado that 
the old travellers went to seek—always in front of them, 
but never just in sight. Mademoiselle is quite right not to 
put down her beautiful country in the map.” 

“ Count Von Rosen,” says my lady, with some show of 
petulance, “ you are always proving Bell to be in the right. 
Yon never help me; and you know I never get any assists 
ance from the quarter whence it ought to come. Now, if 
I were to say that I belonged to the North Country, you 
would never think of bringing all sorts of historical argu¬ 
ments to prove that I did.” 

“ Madame,” says the young man, with great modesty, 
“ the reason is that you never need any such arguments, for 
you are always in the right at the first.” 

Here Bell laughs in a very malicious manner ; for was 
not the retort provoked ? My lady asks the girl to watch 
the creeping of a shadow over the summit of Glaramara, as 
if that had anything to do with the history of Deira. 

Well, the Avomen owed us some explanation ; for betAvecn 
them they had resolved upon our setting out for Penrith 
that afternoon. All the excursions we had planned in this 
beautiful neighborhood had to be abandoned, and for no 
ostensible reason whatever. That there must be some oc¬ 
cult reason, however, for this odd resolve was quite certain ; 
and the lieutenant and myself were left to fit such keys to 
the mystery as we might think proper. 

Was it really, then, this odd longing of Bell’s to go 
northward, or was it not rather a secret consciousness that 
Arthur would cease to accompany us at Carlisle ? The 
young man had remained behind at the hotel that morning, 
lie had important letters to write, he said. A telegram had 


OF A PHAETON. 


317 


<1 


arrived for him while we were at breakfast; and he had re¬ 
marked, in a careless way, that it was from Mr. Tatham, 
Katty’s father. Perhaps it was. There is no saying what a 
reckless young fellow may not goad an elderly gentleman 
into doing; but if this message, as we were given to under¬ 
stand, had really something to do with Arthur’s relations 
towards Katty, it was certainly an odd matter to arrange 
by telegraph. 

As for the lieutenant, he appeared to treat the whole 
affair with a cool indifference, which was probably assumed. 
In private conversation he informed me that what Arthur 
might do in the way of marrying Miss Tatham, or anybody 
else, was of no consequence whatever to him. 

“ Mademoiselle will tell me my fate—that is enough,” 
he said. “ You think that I am careless—yes? It is not 
so, except I am convinced your friend from Twickenham 
has nothing to do with it. No, he will not marry 
mademoiselle—that is so clear that any one may see it— 
but he may induce her, frighten her, complain of her, so 
that she will not marry mo. Good. If it is so, I will 
know who has served me that way.” 

“ You needn’t look as if you meant to eat up the 
whole family,” I say to him. 

“ And more,” he continued, with even greater fierceness, 
“ it has come to be too much, this, lie shall not go beyond 
Carlisle with us. I will not allow mademoiselle to bo per¬ 
secuted. You will say I have no right; that it is no business 
of mine-” 

“ That is precisely what I do say. Leave the girl to 
manage her own affairs. If she wishes Arthur to go, she 
can do it with a word. Do you think there is no method 
®f giving a young man his conge than by breaking his 
neck ? ” 

“ Oh, you think then that mademosielle wishes him to 
remain near her?” 

A sudden and cold reserve had fallen over the young 
fellow’s manner. He stood there for a moment as if he 
calmly expected to hear the worse, and was ready to pack 
up bis traps and betake himself to the South. 

“ 1 tell you again,” I say, “ that I think nothing about 
*t, and know nothing about it. But as for the decree of 
Providence which ordained that young people in love 
should become the pest and torture of tlioir friends, of all 
the inscrutable, unjust perplexing, and monstrous facts of 


318 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


life, this is about the \7orst. I will take a cigar from you, 
if you please.” 

“That is all you care for, yes—a cigar,” says tlie young 
man, peevishly. “ If the phaeton were to be smashed to 
pieces this afternoon—a cigar. If mademoiselle were to go 
and marry this wretched fellow—again, a cigar. I do not 
tliink that you care more for anything around you than the 
seal which comes up and shakes hands with his keeper in 
tlie Zoological Gardens.'’ 

“ Got a light ? ” 

“ And yet I tliink it is possible you will get a surprise 
very soom Yes! and will not be indifferent. After 
Oarisle-” 

“After Carlisle you come to Gretna Green. But if you 
propose to run away with Bell, don’t take my horses; they 
are not used to hard work.” 

“Hun away! You do talk as if mademoiselle were 
willing to run away with anybody. ISTo, it is quite another 
thing.” 

And here the lieutenant, getting into the morose state— 
which always follo'ws the fierceness of a lover—begins to 
pull about the shawls and pack them up. 

Nevertheless, the eighteen miles between Keswick and 
Penrith proved one of the pleasantest portions of our 
journey. There was not much driving, it is true. We 
started at midday, and, having something like five or six 
hours in which to get over this stretch of mountain and 
moorland road, we spent most of the time in walking, even 
Tita descending from her usual post to wander along the 
hedgerows and look down into the valley of the Greta. 
As the white road rose gradually from the plains of the 
lakes, taking us along the slopes of the mighty Saddleback, 
the view of the beautiful country behind us grew more 
extended and lovely. The clear silver day showed us the 
vast array of mountains in the palest of hues; and as white 
clouds floated over the hills and the gleaming surface of 
Derwentwater, even the shadows seemed pale and luminous. 
There was no mist, but a bewildering glare of light, that 
seemed at once to transpose and blend the clouds, the sky, 
the hills, and the lake. There was plenty of motion in the 
picture, too, for there was a south wind blowing light 
shadows of gray across the silver whiteness; but there was 
no lowering mass of vapor lying up at the horizon, and ail 


OF A PHAETON, 319 

our evil anticipations of the previous day remained unful¬ 
filled. 

What a picturesque glen is that over which the great 
mass of Saddleback towers? AVe could hear the Greta 
rushing down the chasm through a world of light-green 
foliage ; and sometimes we got a glimpse of the stream 
itself—a rich brown, with dashes of white foam. Then you 
cross the river where it is joined by St. John’s Beck ; and as 
you slowly climb the sides of Saddleback, the Greta becomes 
the Glendei-amackin, and by and by you lose it altogether 
as it strikes off to tlie north. But there are plenty of 
streams about. Each gorge and valley has it beck ; and 
you can hear the splashing of the water where there is 
nothing visible but masses of young trees lying warm and 
green in the sunshine. 

And as for the wild flowers that grew here in a wonderful 
luxuriance of form and color, who can describe them? The 
lieutenant was growing quite learned in English wild 
blossoms. He could tell the difference between Herb 
Robert and Ragged Robin, was not to be deceived into be¬ 
lieving the rock-rose a buttercup, and had become profound 
in the study of the various speedwells. But he was a late 
scholar. Arthur had been under Bell’s tuition years before 
He knew all the flowers she liked best; he could pick them 
out at a distance without going through the trouble of 
laboriously comparing them, as our poor lieutenant had to 
do. You should have seen these two young men, with black 
rage in their hearts, engaged in the idyllic pastime of culling 
pretty blossoms for a fair maiden. Bell treated them both 
with a simple indifference that was begotten chiefly by the 
very definite interest she had in their pursuit. She was 
really thinking a good deal more of her tangled and pictur¬ 
esque bouquet than of the intentions of the young men in 
bringing the flowers to her. She was speedily to be recalled 
from her dream. 

At a certain portion of the way we came upon a lot of 
forget-me-nots that were growing amidst the roadside gi-nss, 
meaning no harm. The pale turquoise-blue of the flowers 
was looking up to the silver-white fleece of the sky, just ns 
if there were some communion between the two that rude 
human hands had no right to break. Arthur made a ])lunge 
at them. lie pulled up at once some half-dozen stalks and 
came back wdth them to Bell. 

“Here,” he said, with a strange sort of smile, “are some 


320 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


forget-me-nots for you. They are supposed to be typical 
of woman’s constancy, are they not ?—for they kcej) fresh 
about half a dozen hours.” 

Bell received the flowers witliout a trace of surprise or 
vexation in her manner; and then, with the most admirable 
self-possession, she turned to tlie lieutenant, separated one 
of the flowers from the lot, and said, with a great gentle¬ 
ness and calmness,— 

“ Count Von Rosen, do you care to have one of these ? 
You have very pretty songs about the forget-me-not in 
Germany.” 

I believe that young fellow did not know whether he 
was dead or alive at that moment when the girl addressed 
him thus. For a single second a flash of surprise and be 
wilderment appeared in his face, and then he took the flower 
from her and said, looking down as if he did not wish any 
of us to see his face,— 

“ Mademoiselle, thank you.” 

But almost directly afterward he had recovered himself. 
With an air as if nothing had happened, he pulled out his 
pocket-book, most carefully and tenderly put the flower in 
it, and closed it again. Arthur, with his face as hot as fire, 
had begun to talk to Tita about Threlkeld Hall. 

It was a pretty little scene to be enacted on this bright 
morning, on a grassy wayside in Cumberland, with all the 
lakes and mountains of Westmoreland for a blue and silvery 
background. But, after all, of what importance was it ? A 
girl may hand her companion of the moment a flower with¬ 
out any deadly intent. How was any one to tell, indeed, 
that she had so turned to the lieutenant as a retort to 
Arthur’s not very courteous remark ? There was no ap¬ 
pearance of vexation in her manner. On the contrary, she 
turned and gave Yon Rosen this paltry little foi*get-me-not 
and made a remark about German songs, just as she might 
have done at home in Surrey to any of the young fellows 
who come dawdling about the house, wondering why such 
a pretty girl should not betray a preference for somebody. 
Even as a punishment for Arthur’s piece of impudence, it 
might not have any but the most transitory significance. Beil 
is quick to feel any remark of the kind ; and it is just possible 
that at the moment she may have been stung into executing 
this pretty and pastoral deed of vengeance. 

But the lieutenant, at all events, was persuaded that 
Bomething of mighty import had just occurred on thfe 


OF A PHAETON. 


321 


]>ictiircsqiio banks of this Cumberland stream. He hung 
about Bell for some tine, but seemed afraid to address her, 
and had ceased to offtr her flowers. He was permitted to 
bring her a sunshade, however, and that pleased him greatly. 
And thereafter he went up to the horses, and walked by 
their heads, and addressed them in very kindly and sooth¬ 
ing language, just as if they had done him some great ser¬ 
vice. 

Arthur came back to us, 

“ It looks rather ridiculous,’^ he said, abruptly, “ to see 
the procession of this horse and dog-cart following your 
phaeton. Hadn’t I better drive on to Penrith ? ” 

“ The look of it does not matter here, surely,” says Bell, 
“We have only met two persons since we started, and we 
sha’n’t find many people up in this moorland we are coming 
to.” 

“ Oh, as you please,” said the young man, a trifle molli¬ 
fied. “If you don’t mind, of course I don’t.” 

Presently he said with something of an effort,— 

“ How long is your journey to last altogether? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I say to him. “ We shall be in Edin¬ 
burgh in two or three days, and our project of driving 
thither accomplished. But we may spend a week or two 
in Scotland after that.” 

“ Count Von Ilosen is very anxious to see something ol 
Scotland,” says Bell, with the air of a person conveying in¬ 
formation. 

I knew why Count Von Ilosen was so anxious to see 
something of Scotland : he would have welcomed a journey 
to the North Pole if only he was sure that Bell was going 
there too. But Arthur said, somewhat sharply,— 

“ I am glad I shall escape the duty of dancing atten¬ 
dance on a stranger. I suppose you mean to take him to 
the Tower and to Madame Tussaud’s when you return to 
London?” 

“ But won’t you come on with us to Edinburgh, Arthur?” 
says Bell, quite amiably. 

“ No, thank you,” he says; and then, turning to me, 
“ How much does it cost to send a horse and trap from 
Carlisle to London ? ” 

“ From Edinburgh it costs ten pounds five shillings \ so 
you may calculate.” 

“ I suppose I can get a late train to-morrow night for 
myself ? ” 


822 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“ There is one after midnight.” 

lie spoke in a gloomy way, that had nevertheless some 
affectation of carelessness in it. Bell again expressed her re¬ 
gret that he could not accompany us to Edinburgh ; but he 
did not answer. 

We were now about to get into our respective vehicles, 
for before us lay a long stretch of high moorland road, and 
A\'e liad been merely idling the time away during the last 
mile or two. 

“ Won’t you get into the dog-cart for a bit. Bell ?” says 
Arthur. 

“ Oh yes, if you like,” says Bell, good naturedly. 

The lieutenant, knowing nothing of tliis proposal, was 
rather astonished when, after having called to him to stop 
the horses, we came up and Bell was assisted into the dog¬ 
cart, Arthur following and taking the reins. The rest of 
us got into the phaeton; but, of course, Arthur had got the 
start of us, and went on in front. 

“ How far on is Gretna Green ? ” asks my lady, in a low 
voice. 

The lieutenant scowled, and regarded the two figures in 
front of us in anything but an amiable mood. 

“ You do not care much for her safety to intrust her to 
that stupid boy,” he remarks. 

“ Do you think he will really run away with her ? ” says 
Tita. 

“ Run away ! ” repeats the lieutenant, with some scorn ; 
“ if he were to try that, or any other foolish thing, do you 
know what you would see? You would see mademoiselle 
take the reins from him, and go where she pleased in sj)ite 
of him. Do you think that she is controlled by that pitiful 
fellow?” 

Whatever control Bell possessed, there was no doubt at 
all that Arthur was taking her away from us at a consider- 
able pace. After that stretch of moorland the road got very 
hilly; and no man who is driving his own horses likes to 
run them up steep ascents for the mere pleasure of catching 
a runaway boy and his sweetheart. In the ups and downs 
of this route we sometimes lost sight of Bell and Arthur 
altogether. The lieutenant was so wroth that he dared not 
speak. Tita grew a trifle anxious, and at last she said,— 

“ Won’t you drive on and overtake these young people? 
I am sure Arthur is forgetting how hilly the road is.” 


OF A PHAETON. 


823 


“ I don’t. Artliur is driving somebody else’s horse, but 
I can’t afford to ill-treat my own in order to stop him.” 

“ I am sure your horses have not been overworked,” says 
the lieutenant; and at this moment, as we get to the crest 
of a hill, we find that the two fugitives are on the top of 
the next incline. 

milo! me! neh!^'^ 

Two faces turn round. A series of pantomimic gestures 
now convey my lady’s wisiies, and we see Arthur jump 
down to the ground, assist Bell to alight, and then she be¬ 
gins to pull some grass for the horse. 

When we, also, get to the top of this hill, lo ! the won¬ 
derful sight that spreads out before us ! Along the northern 
liorizon stands a pale line of mountains, and as we look 
down into the great plain that lies between, the yellow light 
of the sunset touches a strange sort of mist, so that you 
would think there lay a broad estuary or a great arm of the 
sea. We ourselves are in shadow, but all the wide land¬ 
scape before us is bathed in golden fire and smoke; and up 
there, ranged along the sky, are the pale hills that stand 
like phantoms rising out of another world. 

Bell comes into the phaeton. We set out again along 
the hilly road, getting comforted presently by the landlord 
of a wayside inn, who says, “ Ay, the road goes pretty 
mooch doon bank a’t’ waay to Penrith, after ye get a mile 
forrit.” Bell cannot tell us whether this is pure Cumbrian 
or Cumbrian mixed with Scotch, but the lieutenant insists 
that it does not much matter, for “ forrit ” is very good 
Frisian. The chances are that we should have suffered 
another sermon on the German origin of our language, but 
that signs of a town became visible. We drove in from 
the country highways in the gathering twilight. There 
were lights in the streets of Penrith, but the place itself 
seemed to have shut up and gone to bed. It was but half- 
})ast eight; yet nearly every shop was shut and the inn 
into winch we drove had clearly got over its day’s labor. If 
we had asked for dinner at this hour, the simple folks would 
probably have laughed at us; so we called it supper, and a 
very excellent supper it was. 


324 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CnAPTER XXVIIL 

“ ADE ! 

Edwin, if right I read my song, 

With slighted passion paced along, 

All m the moony light ; 

’Twas near an old enchanted court. 

Where sportive fairies made resort 
To revel out the night.” 

“I AM SO sorry you can’t come farther with us than 
Carlisle,” says Queen Titania to Arthur with a great kind¬ 
liness for the lad shining in her brown eyes. 

“ Duty calls me back—and pleasure, too,” he says, with 
rather a melancholy smile. “You will receive a message 
from me, I expect, shortly after I return. Where will 
letters find you in Scotland? ” 

This was rather a difficult question to answer; but it 
took us away from the dangerous subject of Arthur’s inten¬ 
tions, about which the less said at that moment the better. 
The lieutenant professed a great desire to spend two or 
three weeks in Scotland; and Bell began to sketch out 
phantom tours, whisking about from Loch Lubnaig to Loch 
Long, cutting round the Mull of Cantire, and coming back 
from Oban to the Crinan in a surprising manner. 

“ And, mademoiselle,” says he, “ perhaps to-morrow, 
when you get into Scotland, you will begin to tell mo some¬ 
thing of the Scotch songs, if it does not trouble you. I 
have read some, yes, of Burn’s songs, mostly through 
Freiligrath’s translations, but I have not heard any sung, 
and I know that you know them all. Oh yes, I liked 
tliem very much—they are good, hearty songs, not at 
all melancholy; and an excellent fellow of that country 
I met in the war—he was a correspondent for some 
newspaper, and he was at Metz, but ho was as much of a 
soldier as any man of us—he told me there is not any such 
music as the music of the Scotch songs. That is a very 
bold thing to say, you know, mademoiselle ; but if you will 
sing some of them, I will give you my frank opinion.” 

“Very well,” says mademoiselle, with a giacious smile, 


OF A PHAETON, 


3*25 


but I think I ought to begin to-day, for there is a great 
deal of ground to be got over.” 

“ So much the better,’^ says he. 

“ But if you young people,” says Queen Tita, “ who are 
all bent on your own pleasure, would let me make a sugges¬ 
tion, I think I can put your musical abilities to a better use. 
J am going to give a concert as soon as I get home, fur the 
benefit of our Clothing Club ; and I want you to undertake, 
Count Von Rosen, to sing for us two or three German songs 
—Kdrner’s war-songs, for example.” 

“ Oh, with great pleasure, madarae, if you will not all 
laugh at my singing.” 

Unhappy wretcli—another victim ! But it was a mercy 
she asked him only for a few songs, instead of hinting 
something about a contribution. That was probably to come. 

“ Bell,” says my lady, “ do you think we ought to charge 
twopence this time ? ” 

On this tremendous financial question Bell declined to 
express an opinion, beyond suggesting that the people, if 
they could only be induced to come, would value the con¬ 
cert all the more. A much more practical proposal, how¬ 
ever, is placed before this committee now assembled in 
Penrith. At each of these charity-concerts in our school¬ 
room, a chamber is set apart for the display of various 
viands and an uncommon quantity of Champagne, devoted 
to the use of the performers, their friends, and a few special 
guests. It is suggested that the expense of this entertain¬ 
ment should not always fall upon one person, there being 
several householders in the neighborhood who were much 
more able to afford such promiscuous banquets. 

“ I am sure,” says my lady, with some emphasis, “ that 
I know several gentlemen who would only be too eager to 
come forward and send those refreshments, if they only 
knew you were making such a fuss about it.” 

“ My dear,” I say humbly, “ I wish you would speak to 
them on this subject.” 

“ I wouldn’t demean myself so far,” says Tita, “ as to 
ask for wine and biscuits from my neighbors.” 

“ I wish these neighbors wouldn’t drink so much of my 
Champagne.” 

“But it is a charity; why should you grumble?” says 
the lieutenant. 

“ Why ? These abandoned ruffians and their wives give 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


3l>6 

five shillings to the charity, and come and eat and drink 
ten shillings’ worth of my food and wine. That is why.” 

“ Never mind,” says Bell, with her gentle voice; “ when 
Count Von Rosen comes to sing we shall have a great audi¬ 
ence, and there will be a lot of money taken at the door, 
and we shall be able to clear all expenses and pay you, too, 
for the Champagne.” 

“ At sevenpence-halfpenny a bottle, I suppose ?” 

“ I did not think you got it so cheap,” says Tita, with a 
]ileasing look of innocence ; and therewith the young folks 
began to laugh, as they generally do when she says anything 
s])ecially impertinent. 

Just before starting for Caidisle, we happened to be in 
tlie old churchyard of Penrith, looking at the pillars which 
are supposed to mark the grave of a giant of old, and try¬ 
ing to persuade ourselves that we saw something like Runic 
carvings on the stones. There came forward to us a strangc- 
looking person, who said, suddenly,— 

“ God bless you! ” 

There was no harm in that, at all events ; but presently 
he began to attach himself to Arthur, and insisted on talk¬ 
ing to him ; while, whenever the young man seemed inclined 
tj resent this intrusion, the mysterious stranger put in an¬ 
other “ God bless you!” so as to disarm criticism. We 
s]K‘edily discovered that this person was a sort of whiskifiod 
Old Mortality, who claimed to have cut all manner of tomb¬ 
stones standing around ; and to Arthur, whom he specially 
affected, he continually appealed with “ Will that do, eh *? 
I did that—will that do, eh ? ” The young man was not in 
a communicative mood, to begin with; but the persecution 
he now suffered was like to have driven him wild. In vain 
he moved away; the other followed him. In vain he pre¬ 
tended not to listen; the other did not care. He would 
probably have expressed Ids feelings warmly, but for the 
pious ejaculation which continually came in; and when a 
man says “God bless you!” you can’t with decency wish 
liini the reverse. At length, out of pure compassion, the 
lieutenant went over to the man, and said,— 

“ Well, you are a very wicked old gentleman to have 
been drinking at this time in the morning,” 

“ God bless you! ” 

“ Thank you. You have given to us your blessing all 
round : now will you kindly go away ? ” 


OF A F/IAETON. 


827 


“Wouldn’t you like to see a bit of my cutting, now, 
eh ? ” 

“ No, I wouldn’t. I would like to see you go home and 
get a sleep, and get up sober.” 

“ God bless you ! ” 

“ The same to you. Good-by ”—and behold ! Arthur 
was delivered, and returned, blushing like a girl, to the wo¬ 
men, who had been rather afraid of this half-tipsy or half¬ 
silly person, and remained at a distance. 

You may be sure that when we were about to start from 
Penrith, the lieutenant did not forget to leave out Bell’s 
guitar-case. And so soon as we were well away from the 
town, and bowling along the level road that leads up to 
Carlisle, the girl put the blue ribbon round her shoulder and 
began to cast about for a song. Arthur was driving close 
behind us, occasionally sending on the cob so as to exchange 
a remark or two with my lady. The wheels made no great 
noise, however; and in the silence lying over the shining 
landscape around us, we heard the clear, full, sweet tones 
of Bell’s voice as well as if she had been singing in a room: 

“ Behind yon hills where Lugar flows— 

That was the first song that she sung ; and it was well the 
lieutenant was not a S^cotchman, and had never heard the 
air as it is daily played on the Clyde steamers by wander¬ 
ing fiddlers. 

“ I don’t mean to sing all the songs,” says Bell, presently; 
“ I shall only give you a verse or so of each of those I 
know, so that you may judge of them. Now, this is a 
fighting song; ” and with that she sung with fine courage, 

“ Here’s Kenmure’s health, in wine, Willie ! 

Here’s Kenmure’s health in wine ’ 

There ne’er was a coward o’ Kenmure’s blood, 

Nor yet o’ Gordon’s line ! 

Oh, Kenmure’s lads are men, Willie ! 

Oh, Kenmure’s lads are men ! 

Their hearts and swords are metal true, 

And that their foes shall ken ! ” 

How was it that she always sung these wild, rebellious 
Jacobite songs with so great an accession of spirit? Never 
in our Southern home had she seemed to care anything 
about them. There, the only Scotch songs she used to 
sing for us were the plaintive laments of unhappy lovers. 


328 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


and such-like things; whereas now she was all for blood 
and slaughter, for the gathering of the clans, and the 
general destruction of law and order. I don't believe slie 
knew who Kenniure was. As for the Braes o’ 3Iar, and 
Callander, and Airlie, she had never seen one of these 
]>laces. And what was this “ kane” of which she sung so 
proudly ? 

“ TTark the horn I 
Up i’ the morn; 

Bonnie lad, come to the march to-morrow ! 

Down the Glen, 

Grai)t and liis men, 

They shall pay kane to the king the morn ! 

Down hy Knockhaspie, 

Down hy Gillespie, 

Many a red runt nods the horn 

AVaken not Galium, 

Koiiky, nor Allan— 

They shall pay kane to the king the mom I ” 

“Why, what a warlike creature you have become, 
Boll! ” says Queen Titania. “Ever since you sung those 
songs of Maria, with Count Von llosen as the old Sergeant, 
you seem to have forgotten all the pleasant old ballads of 
melancholy and regret, and taken to nothing but fire and 
sword. Now, if you were to sing about Logan Braes, or 
Lucy’s Flitting, or Annie’s Tryst—” 

“ I am coming to them,” says Bell, meekly. 

“No, mademoiselle,” interposes the lieutenant, “please 
do not sing any more just now. You will sing again, in 
the afternoon, yes ? But at present you will harm your 
voice to sing too much.’^ 

Now she had only sung snatches of three songs. What 
business had he to interfere, and become her guardian ? 
Yet you should have seen how quietly and naturally she 
laid aside the guitar as soon as he had spoken, and how 
she handed it to him to put in the case. My lady looked 
hard at her gloves, which she always docs when she is in¬ 
wardly laughing and determined that no smile shall appear 
on her face. 

It was rather hard upon Arthur that he should be ban¬ 
ished into that solitary trap; but he rejoined us when we 
stopped at High Ilesket to bait the horses, and have a 
snack of something for lunch. What a })icture of desola¬ 
tion is The White Ox of this village ! Once upon a time 
this broad road formed part of the great highway leading 


OF A PHAETON'. 


329 


towards the North ; and here the coaches stopped for the 
last time before driving into Carlisle. It is a large hostelry; 
but it had such an appearance of loneliness and desertion 
about it that we 8top})ed at the front-door (which was shut) 
to ask whether they could put the horses up. An old lady, 
dressed in black, and with a worn and sad face, appeared. 
We could put tlie horses up, yes. As for luncheon, -we 
could have ham and eggs. The butcher only came to the 
place twice a week; and as no traveller stopped here now, 
no butcher’s meat was kept on the premises. We went 
into the great stables, and found an hostler who looked at 
us with a wonderful astonishment shining in his light-blue 
eyes. Looking at the empty stalls, he said he could remem¬ 
ber when forty horses were put up there every day. It 
was the railway that had done it. 

We had our ham and eggs in a largo and melancholy 
parlor, filled with old-fashioned pictures and ornaments. 
Tiie elderly servant-woman who waited on us told us that 
a gentleman had stopped at the inn on the Monday niglit 
before; but it turned out that he was walking to Carlisle, 
and that he had got afraid of two navvies on the road, and 
that he therefore had taken a bed there. Before him, no 
one had stopped at the inn since Whitsuntide. It was all 
because of tliem railways. 

We hastened away from this doleful and deserted inn, 
BO soon as the horses were rested. They had easy work of 
it for the remainder of the day’s journey. The old coach- 
road is here remarkably broad, level, and well made, and 
we bowled along the solitary highway as many a vehicle 
had done in by gone years. As we drove into “ merry 
Carlisle, ” the lamps were lighted in the twilight, and num¬ 
bers of people in the streets. For the covenience of Arthur, 
we put up at a hotel abutting on the railway station, and 
then went off to stable the horses elsewhere. 

It was rather a melancholy dinner we had in a corner 
of the great room. The gloom that overspread Arthur’s 
face was too obvious. In vain the lieutenant talked })ro- 
foundly to us of the apple legend of Tell in its various ap¬ 
pearances (he had just been cribbing his knowledge from 
Professor Buchheim’s excellent essay), and snid he would 
go with my lady next morning to see the marketplace 
where William of Cloudeslce, who afterward shot the 
apple from off his son’s head, was rescued from justice by 
two of his fellow outlaws. Tita was far more concerned 


330 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


to see Arthur of somewhat better spirits on this tlie last 
night of his being with us. On our sitting down to dinner, 
she had said to him, with a pretty smile,— 

“ Kin" Arthur lives in merry Carlisle, 

Anil seemly is to see : 

And there with him Queen Guenever, 

That, bride so bright of blee.” 

But was it not an unfortunate quotation, however kindly 
meant? Queen Guenever sat there—as frank and gracious 
and beautiful as a queen or a bride might be—but not with 
him. That affair of the little blue flower on the banks of 
the Greta was still rankling in his mind. 

He bore himself bravely, however. lie would not have 
the women remain up to see him away by the 12.45 train, 
lie bade good-by to both of them without wincing, and 
looked after Bell for a moment as she left; and then he 
went away into a large and gloomy smoking room, and sat 
down there in silence. The lieutenant and I went with 
him. He was not inclined to speak; and at length Von 
Kosen, apparently to break the horrible spell of the place, 
sjiid, 

“ Will they give the horse any corn or water on the 
journey ?” 

“ I don’t think so, ” said the lad, absently, “ but I have 
telegraphed for a man to be at the station and take the cob 
into the nearest stables.” 

And with that he forced himself to talk of some of his 
adventures by the way, while as yet he w\as driving by 
himself; though we could see he w’as thinking of some- 
thing very different. At last the train from the North came 
in. lie shook hands with us with a fine indifference ; and 
we saw him bundle himself up in a corner of the carriage, 
with a cigar in his mouth. There was nothing tragic in 
his going away; and yet there was not in all England a 
more wretched creature than the young man who thus 
started on his lonely night-journey ; and I afterward heard 
that, up in the railway-hotel at this moment, one tender 
heart was still beating a little more quickly at the thought 
of his going, and two wakeful eyes were full of unconscious 
tears. 


OF A rifAETON’ 


831 


CIIAPTEU XIX 

OVER THE BORDER. 

^ “And here a-i^-hile tlic ATnse, 

High hovering o’er the broad ceruleaii scene, 

Sees Caledonia in romantic view : 

Her aiiy mountains, from the waving main, 

Invested with a keen, dillusive sky, 

Breathing the soul acute ; her forests huge, 

Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature’s hand 
Planted of old ; her azure lakes between 
Poured out expansive, and of watery wealth 
Full ; winding, deep, and green, her fertile vales 
With many a cool translucent brimming flood 
Washed lovely from the Tweed (pure parent stream 
Whose pastoral banks first heard my Boric reed. 

With sylvan Gled, thy tributary brook).” 

That next morning in Carlisle as we walked about the 
red old city that is set amidst beautiful green meadows in¬ 
terlaced with streams, there was something about Queen 
Titania’s manner that I could not understand. She arro¬ 
gated to herself a certain importance. She treated ordinary 
topics of talk with disdain. She had evidently become pos¬ 
sessed of a great secret. Now, every one knows that the best 
way to discover a secret is to let the owner of it alone ; if it 
is of great importance she will tell it you, and if it is of no 
importance your ignorance of it won’t hurt you. 

We were u|) in that fine old castle, leaning on the para¬ 
pets of red sandstone and gazing away up to the north, 
where a line of Scotch hills lay on the horizon. That is a 
pretty landscape that lies around Carlisle Castle—the bright 
and grassy meadows through which the Eden winds, the 
woods and heights of the country beyond, the far stretches 
of sand at the mouth of the Solway, and the blue line of 
hills telling of the wilder regions of Scotland. 

In the courtyard below us we can see the lieutenant 
instructing Bell in the art of fortification. My lady looks 
at them for a moment, and says,— 

“Bell is near her North Country at last.” 

There is, at all events, nothing very startling in that dis¬ 
closure. She pauses for a moment or two, and is apparently 
regarding with wistful eyes the brilliant landscape around, 


332 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


across which dashes of sliadow are slowly moving from tlio 
west. Then she adds,— 

“ I suppose you are rather puzzled to account for 
Arthur’s coming up to see us this last time ? ” 

“ I never try to account for the insane actions of young 
peojde in love.” 

“ That is your own experience, I suppose ? ” she says, 
daintily. 

“ Precisely so—of you. Put what is this about Arthur ? ” 

“Don’t you really think it looks absurd—his having 
come to join us a second time for no apparent purpose 
whatever ? ” 

“ Proceed.” 

“ Oh,” she says, with some little hauteur^ “ I am not 
anxious to tell you anything.” 

“Put I am dying to hear. Have you not marked my 
impatience ever since we set out this morning ? ” 

“ No, I haven’t. But I Avill tell you all the same, if you 
promise to say not a word of it to the count.” 

“I? Say anything to the lieutenant? The man who 
would betray the confidences of his wife—except when it 
suited his own purpose— But what have you got to say 
about Arthur ? ” 

“ Only this : that his coming to sec us was not so aim¬ 
less as it might appear. Yesterday he asked Bell definitely 
if she would marry him.” 

She smiles, with an air of pride. She knows she has 
produced a sensation. 

“ \yould you like to know where? In an old inn at 
High Ilesket, where tliey seem to have been left alone for 
a minute or two. And Bell told him frankly that she could 
not marry him.” 

Think of it! In that deserted old inn, with its forsaken 
chambers and empty stalls, and occasional visits from a 
wandering butclier, a tragedy had been enacted so quietly 
that none of us had known. If folks were always to trans¬ 
act the most important business of their lives in this quiet, 
undramatic, unobserved "way, whence would come all the 
material for our pictures, and plays, and books? These 
young people, so far as w^e knew^ had never struck an atti¬ 
tude, nor uttered an exclamation; for, now that one had 
time to remember, on our entering into the parlor where 
Bell and Arthur had been left, she was quietly looking out 
of the window, and he came forward to ask how many miles 


Of A rilAETOX, 


S83 


it was to Carlisle. Tlicy "ot into the vehicles outside as if 
notliing had happened. They chatted as usual on the road 
into Carlisle. Nay, at dinner, how did those young hypo¬ 
crites manage to make believe that they were on their old 
footing, so as to deceive us all ? 

“ l\[y dear,’' I say to her, “ we have been robbed of a 
scene.” 

“ I am glad there was no scene. There is more likely to 
be a scene when Artliur goes back and tells Dr. Asliburton 
that he means to marry Katty Tatham. He is sure to do 
tliat; and you know the doctor was very much in favor of 
Arthur’s marrying Dell.” 

“ Well, now, I su])pose, all that is wanted for the com¬ 
pletion of your diabolical project is that Bell should marry 
tliat young Prussian down liere, who will be arrested in a 
minute or two if ho does not drop his inquiries.” 

Tita looked up with a stare of well-affected surprise. 

“ That is quite another matter, I assure you. You may 
bo quite certain that Bell did not refuse Count Von Rosen 
before without some very good reason ; and the mere fact 
of Arthur’s going away does not pledge her a bit. No; 
quite the contrary. He would be very foolish if he asked 
her at this moment to become his wife. She is very sorry 
about Arthur, and so am I; but I confess that when I 
learned his case was hopeless, and that I could do nothing 
to help him, I was greatly relieved. But don’t breatlie a 
word of what I have told you to Count Von Rosen. Bell 
would never forgive me if it were to reach his ears. But 
oh! ” says Queen Tita, almost clasping her hands, while a 
bright light beams over her face, “ 1 should like to see those 
two married. I am sure they are so fond of each other. 
Can you doubt it, if you look at them for a moment or 
two-” 

But they had disappeared from the courtyard below. 
Almost at the same moment that she uttered these words, 
she instinctively turned, and lo! there were Bell and her 
companion advancing to join us. The poor little woman 
blushed dreadfully in spite of all her assumption of gra¬ 
cious self-possession ; but it was apparent that the young 
folks had not overheard, and no harm was done. 

At length we started for Gretna. There might have 
been some obvious jokes going upon this subject, had not 
some recollection of Arthur interfered. Was it because of 
his departure, also, that the lieutenant forbore to press Bell 



334 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


for the Scotch songs that she had promised him ? Or was 
it not rather that the brightness and freshness of this rare 
forenoon were in themselves sufficient exhilaration ? We 
drove down by the green meadows, and over the Eden 
bridge. We clambered up the hill opposite, and drove 
past the suburban villas there. We had got so much ac¬ 
customed to sweet perfumes floating to us from the hedge¬ 
rows and the fields, that we at first did not perceive that 
certain specially pleasant odors wore the product of some 
large nurseries close by. Then we got out to that “shed¬ 
ding” of the roads, which marks the junction of the higli- 
ways coming down from Glasgow and Edinburgh ; and 
here we chose the former, which would take us through 
Gretna and Moffat, leaving us to strike eastward towards 
Edinburgh afterward. 

The old mail-coach road to the North is quite deserted 
now; but it is a pleasant road for all that, well-made and 
smooth, with tracts of grass along each side, and tall and 
profuse hedges that only partially hide from view the dusky 
northern landscape with its blue line of hills beyond. Mile 
after mile, however, we did not meet a single creature on 
this deserted highway; and when at length we reached a soli¬ 
tary turnpike, the woman in charge thereof regarded us 'with 
a look of surprise as if we were a party of runaways who had 
blundered into the notion that Gretna Green marriages 
were still possible. 

The lieutenant, who was driving, got talking with the 
woman about these marriages, and the incidents that must 
have occurred at this very turnpike, and of the stories in 
the neighborhood about that picturesque and gay old time. 
She, witli her eyes still looking towards our Bell, as if she 
suspected that tlie young man had quite an exceptional 
interest in talking of marriages, told us some of her own 
reminiscences with a great deal of good humor; but it is 
sad to think that these anecdotes were chiefly of quarrels 
and separations, some of them occurring before the happy 
nair had crossed the first bridge on their homeward route. 
Whether these stories were not edifying, or whether a great 
bank of clouds, coming up from the north against the 
wind, looked very ominous. Bell besought her companion 
to drive on ; and so on he went. 

It was a lonely place in which to be caught by a thun¬ 
derstorm. We came to the river Esk, and found its shal¬ 
low waters flowing down a broad and si ingly channel, 


OF A PHAETON, 


335 


leaving long islands of sand between. There was not a 
house in sight—only the marshy meadows, the river-beds, 
and the low flats of sand stretching out to the Solway 
Frith. Scotland was evidently bent on giving us a wot 
welcome. From the hills in the north those black masses 
of vapor came crowding ii]>, and a strange silence fell over 
the land; then a faint glimmer of red appeared somewhere, 
and a low noise Avas heard. Presently a long narroAV 
streak of forked lightning Avent darting across the black 
background ; there Avas a smart roll of thunder ; and then 
all around us the first clustering of heaA^y rain Avas heard 
among the leaves. We had the hood put up hastily. Bell 
and Tita Avere speedily sAA^athed in shaAvls and Avater 
]>roofs ; and the lieutenant sent the horses on at a good 
]>ace, hoping to reach Gretna Green before Ave should bo 
Avashed into the Solway. Then began the Avild play of the 
elements. On all sides of us the bcAvildering glare of steel- 
blue seemed to flash about, and the horses, terrified by 
the terrific peals of thunder, Av^ent plunging on through 
the torrents of rain. 

“ Mademoiselle,” cried the lieutenant, Avith the water 
streaming OAX*r his face and doAvn his great beard, “your 
Westmoreland rain—it Avas nothing to this.” 

Bell sat mute and patient, Avith her face down to escape 
the blinding torrents. Perhajis, had avo crossed the Border 
in beautiful Aveather, she Avould have got doAvn from the 
phaeton, and pulled some pretty floAver to take aAA^ay Avith 
lier as a memento ; but noAV Ave could see nothing, hear 
nothing, think of nothing, but the crashes of the thunder, 
the persistent Avaterfall, and those sudden glares that from 
time to time robbed us of our eyesight for several seconds. 
Some little time before reaching tl\e river Sark, Avhich is 
here the boundary-line betAveen the tAVO countries, we passed 
a small wayside inn; but Ave did not think of stopping 
there Avhen Gretna promised to afford us more certain 
shelter. W^e drove on and oa^ci* the Sark. W^e pulled up 
for a moment at the famous toll-house. 

“ We are over the Border ! ” cried Bell, as we drove on 
again. But Avhat of Scotland could she see in this Avild 
storm of rain ? 

Surely no runaAA^ay lover was ever more glad to see 
that small church perched up on a hillock among trees 
than Ave Avere Avhen we came in sight of Gretna. But 
where Avas the inn! There Avcrc a foAV cottages by the 


i 


336 the strange adventures 

wayside, and there was one woman who kin illy came ont 
to look at us. 

No sooner had the lieutenant heard that there was no 
inn in the place, than, without a word—but with an awful 
look of determination on his face—lie turned the horses 
clean round, and set them off at a gallop down the road to 
the Sark. 

“ Perhaps they can’t take us in at that small place,” said 
my lady. 

“ Tliey must take us in,” said he, between his teeth ; 
and with that we found ourselves in England again. 

He drove us up to the front of the square building. 
With his whip-hand he dashed away the rain from his eyes 
and mustache, and called aloud. Lo ! Avhat strange vision 
was that which a])peared to us, in this lonely place, in the 
middle of a storm? Through the mist of tlio rain we 
beheld llio doorway of the inn suddenly becoming tlie 
frame of a beautiful picture; and tlie picture was that of a- 
fair-haired and graceful young creature of eighteen, in a 
costume of pearly gray touched here and there witli lines 
of blue, who regarded us with a winning expression of 
wonder and pity in her large and innocent eyes. Her 
appearance there seemed like a glimmer of sunlight sliiniug 
through the rain ; and a second or two elaj)sed before the 
lieutenant could collect himself so far as to ask whether 
this angel of deliverance could not shelter us from the 
rude violence of the storm. 

“ We have no hostler,” says the young lady, in a timid 
way. 

“ Have you any stables ? ” says the young man. 

“Yes we have stables ; shall I show them to you?” 

“Ho, no!” he cries, quite vehemently. “ Don’t you 
come out into tlie rain—not at all! I will find them out 
very well myself; but you must take in the ladies here, 
and get them dry.” 

And when we had consigned Bell and Tita to the care 
of the young lady, who received them with a look of mucli 
friendliness and concern in her pretty face, we went ol’f 
and sought out the stables. 

“Now, look hero, my good friend,” says Yon Rosen, 
“we are both wet. The liorses have to be groomed—that 
is very good work to dry one person; and so you go into 
tlie house, and change your clothes, and I will see after the 
horses, yes ? 


OF A PHAETON^ 


337 


fl’icnd, it is no use your being very com- 
plfiisant to me,’ I observe to him. “I don’t mean to 
intercede with Bell for you. 

“ Would you intercede with that beautiful young ladv of 
the inn for me? Well, now, that is a devil of a language, 
yours. How am I to address a girl who is a stranger "to 
me, and to whom I wish to be respectful? I cannot call 
her mademoiselle, which is only an old nickname that 
mademoiselle used to have in Bonn, as you know. You 
tell me I cannot address a young lady as “ Miss ” without 
mentioning her other name, and I do not know it. Yet I 
cannot address her with nothing, as if she were a servant. 
Tell me now—what does an English gentleman say to a 
young lady whom he may assist at a rail-way station abroad, 
and does not know her name ? And what, if he does not 
catch her name when he is introduced in a house ? He 
cannot say mademoiselle. He cannot say Fraulein. Ho 
cannot say miss.” 

“ He says nothing at all.” 

“ But that is rudeness: it is awkward to you not to be 
able to address her.” 

“ Why are you so anxious to know how to talk to this 
young lady?” 

“ Because I mean to ask her if it is impossible that she 
can get a little corn for the horses.” 

It was tiresome w'ork, that getting the horses out of the 
wet harness, and grooming them without the implements 
of grooming. Moreover, we could fin'd nothing but a 
handful of hay ; and it was fortunate that the nose-bags we 
liad with us still contained a small allowance of oats and 
beans. 

What a comfortable little family party, however, we 
made up in the large warm kitchen! Tita had struck up a 
great friendship with the gentle and pretty daughter of the 
house ; the old lady, her mother, was busy in having our 
wraps and rugs hung up to dry before the capacious fire¬ 
place ; and the servant-maid had begun to cook some chops 
for us. Bell, too,—who might have figured as the eldest 
sister of this flaxen-haired and frank-eyed creature, who had 
appeared to us in the storm—was greatly interested in her \ 
and was much pleased to hear her distinctly and proudly 
claim to be Scotch, although it was her misfortune to live 
a short distance on the wrong side of the Border. And with 
that the two girls fell to talking about Scotch and Cumbrian 


338 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


words; but here Bell had a tremendous advantage, and 
j^ushed it to such an extreme, that her opponent, with a 
pretty blush and a laugh, said that she did not know the 
English young ladies knew so much of Scotch. And when 
Bell protested that she would not be called English, the girl 
only stared. You see, she had never had the benefit of 
hearing the lieutenant discourse on the history of Strath¬ 
clyde. 

Well, we had our chops and what not in the parlor of 
the inn ; but it was remarkable how soon the lieutenant 
proposed that we should return to the kitchen. He pre¬ 
tended that he was anxious to learn Scotch ; and affected a 
profound surprise that the young lady of the inn should 
not know the meaning of tlie Avord “ spurtle.” When wo 
went into tlie kitclien, liowever, it was to the mamma that he 
addressed himself chiefly; and, behold ! she speedily re¬ 
vealed to the young soldier that she Avas.the Avidow of one 
of the Gretna priests. More than that I don’t mean to say. 
Some of you young fellows Avho may read this might per¬ 
haps like to knoAv the name and the precise whereabouts of 
the fair Avild flower that Ave found blooming up in these 
remote solitudes ; but neither shall be reA^ealed. If there 
Avas any of us Avho fell in love with the sweet and gentle 
face, it Avas Queen Tita; and I know not Avhat compacts 
about photographs may not have been made betAveen the 
two Avomen. 

Meanwhile the lieutenant had established himself as a 
great favorite Avith the elderly lady, and by and by she left 
the kitchen, and came back with a sheet of paper in her 
hand, Avhich she presented to him. It turned out to be one 
of the forms of the marriage-certificates used by her hus¬ 
band in former days; and for curiosity’s sake I append it 
below, suppressing the name of the priest for obvious rea¬ 
sons. 


KINGDOM OF SCOTLAND. 

COUOTY OP DUMFKIES, PABISH OP GBETNA. 


THESE AHE TO CERTIFY to all tohom these presents shall comSy 
that* * * from the parish of* * *in the County of * * * and ** • 
from the parish of * * * in the County of** * bciny now here present, 
and having declared themselves single persons, were this day Married 
after the manner of the Laws of the Church of England, and agreeable 



OF A PJ/AETON. 339 

io the Laws of Scotland; as Witness our hands, Allison's Bank Toll¬ 
house, this * * * day of* * * 13 

Before * * * | 


Witnesses, 


“ Tliat is a dangerous paper to carry about wi’ ye,’^ said 
the old woman, with a smile. 

“ Why so? ” inquired the lieutenant. 

“ Because ye might be tempted to ask a young leddy to 
sign her name there.” And what should prevent that inno¬ 
cent-eyed young girl turning just at this moment to look 
with a pleased smile at our Bell ? The lieutenant laughed, in 
an embarrassed way, and said the rugs might as well be 
taken from before the fire, as they were quite dry now. 

I think none of us would have been sorry to have stayed 
the night in this homely and comfortable little inn, but we 
wished to get on to Lockerbie, so as to reach Edinburgh in 
other two days. Moreover, the clouds had broken, and there 
was a pale glimmer of sunshine appearing over the dark- 
green woods and meadows. We had the horses put into 
the phaeton again, and with many a friendly word of thanks 
to the good people who had been so kind to us, we started 
once more to cross the Border. 

“And what do you think of the first Scotch family you 
have seen ? ” says Queen Tita to the lieutenant, as we cross 
the bridge again. 

“ Madame,” he says, quite earnestly, “ I did dream for 
a moment I was in Germany again—everything so friendly 
and homely, and the young lady not too proud to wait on 
you, and help the servant in the cooking; and then, when 
that is over, to talk to you with good education, and intel¬ 
ligence, and great simpleness and frankness. Oh, that is 
very good—whether it is Scotch, or German, or any other 
country—the simple ways, and the friendliness, and the 
absence of all the fashions and the hypocrisy.” 

“ That young lady was very fashionably dressed, Count 
Von Rosen,” says Tita, with a smile. 

“That is nothing, madarae. Did she not bring in to 
us our dinner, just as the daughter of the house in a German 
country inn would do, as a compliment to you, and not to 
let the servant come in ? Is it debasement, do you think ? 
No. You do respect her for it; and you yourself, madamo. 







THE STRANGE ADVENTURES' 


aio 

you did speak to her as if she were an old friend of yours— 
and why not, when you find people like that honest and 
good-willing towards you ? ” 

What demon of mischief was it that prompted Bell to 
sing that song as we drove through the darkening woods in 
tins damp twilight ? The lieutenant had just got out her 
guitar for her when he was led into those fierce statements 
quoted above. And Bell, with a great gravity, sung,— 

Farewell to Glcnshallock, a farewell forever, 

Farewell to my wee cot that stands by the river; 

The fall is loud-sounding in voices that vary, 

And the echoes surrounding lament with my Mary.” 

This much may be said, that the name of the young 
lady of whom they had been speaking w'as also Mary ; and 
the lieutenant, divining some profound sarcasm in the song, 
began to laugh and protest that it "was not because the girl 
was pretty and gentle that he had discovered so much ex¬ 
cellence in the customs of Scotch households. Then Bell 
sung once more, as the sun went down behind the >voods, 
and WQ heard the streams murmuring in deep valleys by 
the side of the road,— 

“ ITame, hame, hame, O hame fain would I be, 

Ilame, hame, hame, to my ain countree; 

There’s an eye that ever weeps, and a fair face will be fain. 

As I pass through Cnnan w’ater, wi’ my bonny bands again I” 

We drive into the long village of Ecclefechan, and pause 
for a moment or two in front of The Bush Inn to let the 
horses have a draught of water and oatmeal. The lieuten¬ 
ant, who has descended to look after this prescription, now 
comes out from the inn bearing a small tray with some 
tumblers on it. 

“ Madame,” said he, here is Scotch whiskey; you must 
all drink it, for the good of the country.” 

“ And of ourselves,” says one of us, calling attention to 
the chill dampness of the night air. 

My lady pleaded for a bit of sugar, but that was not 
allowed ; and when she had been induced to take about a 
third of the lieutenant’s preparation, she put down the 
glass with an air of having done her duty. As for Bell, she 
drank pretty nearly half the quantity; and the chances are 
that if the lieutenant had handed her prussic acid, she would 
have felt herself bound, as a compliment, to accept it. 


OF A PHAETON. 


^4i 

Darker and darker grow the landscape as we drove 
through the thick woods. And when, at last, we got into 
Lockerbie there was scarcely enough light of any sort to 
show us that the town, like most Scotch country towns and 
villages, was whitewashed. In the inn at wliich we stopped, 
appropriately named Tlie Line Boll, the lieutenant once 
more remarked on the exceeding homeliness and friendli¬ 
ness of the Scotch. The landlord simply adopted us, 
and gave us advice in a grave, paternal fashion, about what 
we should have for supper. The waiter who attended us 
took quite a friendly interest in uur trip , and said he would 
himself go and see that the horses which had accomplished 
such a feat were being properly looked after. Bell was im¬ 
mensely proud that slie could understand one or two 
phrases that were rather obscure to the rest of the party; 
and the lieutenant still further delighted her by declaring 
that he wished we could travel for months through this 
iiiendly land, which reminded him of his own country. 
Perhaps the inquisitive reader, having learned that we 
drank Scotch whiskey at The Bush Inn of Ecclefechan, 
would like to know what we drank at The Blue Bell of 
Lockerbie. He may address a letter to Queen Titania on 
that subject, and he will doubtless receive a j^erfectly frank 
answer. 

[ Note hy Queen Titania, —“ I do not see why our pretty Bell 
should be made the chief subject of all the faregoing revelations. I 
will say this, that she and myself were convinced that we never saw 
two men more jealous of each other than those two were in that inn 
near the Border. The old lady was quite amused by it ; but I do 
not think the girl herself noticed it, for she is a very innocent and 
gentle young thing, and has probably had no experience of such ab¬ 
surdities. But I would like to ask who first mentioned that subject 
of photographs ; and who proposed to send her a whole series of en¬ 
gravings ; and who offered to send her a volume of German songs, 
if Arthur had been there, we should have had the laugh all on our 
side; but now I suppose they will deny that anything of the kind 
took place—with the ordinary candor of gentlemen who are found 
ouU'\ 


342 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


CHAPTER XXX. 

TWEED SIDE. 

Ah, happy Lyciiis!—for she was a maid 
More beautiful than ever twisted braid, 

Or sighed, or bluslied, or on spring-flowered lea 
Spread a green kirtle to tlie minstrelsy ; 

A virgin purest-lipped, yet in the loro 
Of love deep learned to the red heart’s core.” 

The very first object th.^t we saw, on this the first morn¬ 
ing of our waking in Scollantl, was a small boy of seven 
or eight, brown-faced, yellow-haired, barefooted, who was 
marciiin" along in the sunlight with a bag of school-books 
on his back about as big as himself. 

“ Oh, the brave little fellow ! ” cries Tita, regarding him 
from the door of the inn with a great softness in her brown 
eves. “Don’t you think he will be lord chancellor some 
day?” 

The future lord chancellor went steadily on, liis small 
brown feet taking no heed of the stones in the white road. 

“ I think,” says Tita, suddenly plunging her liand into 
her pocket, “I think I should like to give him a shilling.” 

“Ko, madame,” says one of us to her, sternly ; “ you 
shall not bring into this free land the corrupting influences 
of the South. It is enough that you have debased the district 
around your own home. If you offered that young })atriot 
a shilling, he would turn again and rend you. But if you 
offered him a half-penny, now, to buy bools—” 

At this moment, somehow or other. Bell and our lieu¬ 
tenant appear together; and before we know where we are 
the girl has darted across the street in pursuit of the boy. 

“ What are bools? ” asked the lieutenant, gravely. 

“ Objects of interest to the youthful student.” 

Then we see, in the white glare of the sun, a wistful, 
small, fair and sunburned face turned towards that young 
lady with the voluminous light-brown hair. She is appar¬ 
ently talking to him, but in a different tongue from his own, 
and he looks frightened. Then the sunlight glitters on two 
white coins, and Bell pats him kindly on the shoulder; and 
doubtless the little fellow proceeds on his way to school in 


OF A PHAETON. 


Si;] 

a soil of wild and wonderful dream, having an awful sense 
that lie lias been spoken to by a fair and gracious princess. 

“ As [ live,” says my lady, with a great surprise, “ she 
lias given him two half-crowns !” 

Queen Titania looks at me. There is a meaning in her 
look—partly interrogation, partly conviction, and wholly 
kind and pleasant. It has dawned upon her that girls who 
are not blessed with abundant pocket-money do not give 
away five shillings to a passing schoolboy without some 
profound emotional cause. Bell comes across the way, 
looking vastly pleased and proud, but somehow avoiding 
our eyes. She would have gone into the inn, but that my 
lady’s majestic presence (you could have fanned her out of 
the way with a butterfly’s wing!) barred the entrance. 

“ Have you been for a walk this morning. Bell ? ” she 
says, with a fine air of indifference. 

“ Yes, madame,” replied our Uhlan—as if he had any 
business to answer for our Bell. 

“ Where did you go ? ” 

“ Oh,” says the girl, with some confusion, “ we went— 
we went away from the town a little way—I don’t exactly 
know—” 

And with that she escaped into the inn. 

“ Madame,” says the lieutenant, with a great apparent 
effort, while he keejis his eyes looking towmrds the pave¬ 
ment, and there is a brief touch of extra color in his brown 
face, “madame—I—I am asked—indeed, mademoiselle she 
was good enough—she is to be my wife—and she did ask 
me if I would tell you—” 

And somehow he put out his hand—just as a German 
boy shakes hands with you, in a timid fashion, after you 
liave tipped him at school—and took Tita’s hand in his, as 
if to thank her for a great gift. And the little woman was 
so touched, and so mightily pleased, that I thought she 
would have kissed him before my very face, in the open 
streets of Lockerbie. All this scene, you must remember, 
took place on the doorstep of an odd little inn in a small 
Scotch country-town. There were few spectators. The 
sun w'as shining down on the white fronts of the cottages, 
and blinking on the windows. A cart of hay stood oppo¬ 
site to us, with the horse slowly munching inside his nose¬ 
bag. We ourselves were engaged in peacefully waiting for 
bi-eakfast when the astounding news burst upon us. 

“Ob, I am very glad indeed. Count Von Rosen,” saya 


344 


THE STRANGE ADVEN2NRES 


Tita; and, sure enough, there was gladness written all over 
lier face and in her eyes. And then in a minute she had 
sneaked away from us, and I knew she had gone away to 
seek Bell, and stroke her hair, and put her arms round her 
neck, and say, “ Oh, my dear,” with a little sob of delight. 

Well, I turn to the lieutenant. Young men, when they 
have been accepted, wear a most annoying air of self-satis¬ 
faction. 

“ Touching those settlements,” I say to him; “ have 
you any remark to make ? ” 

The young man begins to laugh. 

“ It is no laughing matter. I am Bell’s guardian. You 
have not got my consent yet.” 

“We can do without it—it is not an opera,” he says, 
with some more of that insolent coolness. “ But you would 
be pleased to prevent the marriage, yes? For I have seen 
it often—that you are more jealous of mademoiselle than of 
any one—and it is a wonder to me that you did not interfere 
before. But as for madame, now—yes, she is my very 
good friend, and has helped me very much.” 

Such is the gratitude of those conceited young fellows, 
and their penetration, too ! If he had but known that only 
a few days before Tita had taken a solemn vow to help 
Arthur by every means in her power, so as to atone for any 
injustice she might have done him ! But all at once he says, 
with quite a burst of eloquence ( for him ), 

“ My dear friend, how am I to thank you for all this? 
I did not know, when I proposed to come to England, that 
this holiday tour would bring me so much happiness. It 
does a})pear to me I am grown very rich—so rich I should 
like to give something to everybody this morning, and make 
every one happy as myself—” 

“Just as Bell gave the boy five shillings. All right. 
When you get to Edinburgh you can buy Tita a Scotch 
collie : she is determined to have a collie, because Mrs. 
Quinet got a prize for one at the Crystal Palace. Come in 
to breakfast.” 

Bell was sitting there with her face in shadow, and Tita, 
laughing in a very affectionate way, standing beside her 
with her hands on the girl’s shoulder. Bell did not look 
up; nothing was said. A very friendly waiter put break¬ 
fast on the table. The landlord dropped in to bid us good¬ 
morning, and see that we were comfortable. Even the 
hostler, the lieutenant told us afterward, of this Scotch inn 


OF A PHAETON'. 


345 


liad conversed with him in a shrewd, homely, and sensible 
fashion, treating him as a young man who would naturally 
like to have the advice of his elders. 

The young people were vastlj’’ delighted with the homely 
ways of this Scotch inn ; and began to indulge in vague theo¬ 
ries about parochial education, independence of character, 
and the hardihood of Northern races—all tending to the 
honor and glory of Scotland. You would have thought, to 
hear them go on in this fashion, than all the good of the 
world, and all its beauty and kindliness, were concentrated in 
the Scotch town of Lockerbie, find that in Lockerbie no 
2)lace was so much the pet of fortune as The Blue Bell inn. 

“ And to think,” says Bell, with a gentle regret, “ that 
to-morrow is the last day of our driving.” 

“ But not the last of our holiday, mademoiselle,” says 
the lieutenant. “Is it necessary that any of us goes back 
to England for a week or two, or a month, or two months ? ” 

Of course, the pair of them would have liked very well 
to start off on another month’s excursion, just as this one 
waslinished. But parents and guardians have their duties. 
Very soon they would be in a position to control their own 
actions; and tlien they would be welcome to start for 
Kamtchatka. 

All that could be said in praise of Scotland had been 
said in the inn ; and now, as Castor and Pollux took us 
away from Lockerbie into the hillier regions of Dumfries¬ 
shire, our young people ivere wholly at a loss for words to 
describe their delight. It was a glorious day, to begin 
with : a light breeze tempering the hot sunlight, and blow¬ 
ing about the perfume of sweetbrier from the fronts of the 
stone cottages, and bringing us warm and resinous odors 
from the woods of larch and spruce. We crossed deep 
glens, along the bottom of which ran clear brown streams 
over beds of pebbles. The warm light fell on the sides of 
those rocky clefts, and lighted up tlie masses of young 
rowan-trees and the luxuriant ferns along tlie moist banks. 
There was a richly cultivated and undulating country lying 
all around; but few houses, and those chielly farmhouses. 
Far beyond, the rounded hills of Moffat rose, soft mid blue, 
into the white sky. Then, in the stillness of the bright day, 
we came upon a wayside school ; and as it happened to be 
dinner-time, we sto]:)})ed to see the stream of little ones come 
out. It was a pretty sight, under the shadow of the trees, 
to see that troop of children come into the country road— 


846 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


most of them being girls, in extremely white pinafores, and 
nearly all of them, boys and girls, being yellow-haired, clear¬ 
eyed, healthy children, who kept very silent and stared shyly 
at the horses and the phaeton. All the younger ones had 
bare feet, stained with the sun, and their yellow hair, which 
looked almost white by the side of their berry-brown cheeks, 
was free from cap or bonnet. They did not say, “ Cluick us 
a ’apenny.’^ They did not raise a cheer as we drove off. 
They stood by the side of the road, close by the hawthorn 
hedge, looking timidly after us; and the last that we saw 
of them was that they had got into the middle of the ])ath 
and were slowly going off home—a small, bright, and vari¬ 
ous-colored group under the soft green twilight of an avenue 
of trees. 

As we drove on through the clear, warm day, careless 
and content, the tw’o women had all the talking to them¬ 
selves ; and a strange use they made of their opportunities. 
If the guardian angels of those two creatures happen to 
have any sense of humor, they must have laughed as they 
looked down and overheard. You may remember that 
when it was first proposed to take this Prussian lieutenant 
with us on our summer tour, both Bell and my lady pro¬ 
fessed the most deadly hatred of the German nation, and 
were nearly weeping tears over the desolate condition of 
France. That was about six months before. Now, thirty 
millions of people, cither in the South or North of Europe, 
don’t change their collective character—if such a thing 
exists—within the sj^ace of six months ; but on this bright 
morning you would have fancied that the women were vying 
with each other to ])rove that all the domestic virtues, and 
all the science and learning of civilization, and all the arts 
that beautify life, were the exclusive property of the Teu¬ 
tons. My lady was a later convert—had she not made 
merry only the other day over Bell’s naive confession that 
she thought the German nation as good as the French 
nation ?—but now that she had gone over to the enemy, 
she altogether distanced Bell in the production of theories, 
facts, quotations, and downright personal opinion. She 
had lived a little longer, you see, and knew more; and 
perhaps she had a trifle more audacity in suppressing 
awkward facts. At all events, the lieutenant was partly 
abashed and partly amused by her warm advocacy of 
German character, literature, music, and a thousand other 
things ; and by her endeavors to prove—out of the 


OF A PHAETON. 


347 


Ijistorical lessons she had taught her two boys—that there 
had always prevailed in this country a strong antipathy to 
the French and all their ways. 

“ Their language, too,” I remark, to keep the ball roll¬ 
ing. “ Observe the difference between the polished, fluent, 
and delicate German, and the barbaric dissonance and jum¬ 
ble of the French! How elegant the one, how harsh the 
otlier ! If you were to take Bossuet, now—” 

“It is not fair,” says Bell. “We were talking quite 
seriously, and you come in to make a jest of it.” 

“ I don’t. Are you aware that, at a lecture Coleridge 
gave in the Royal Institution in 1808, he solemnly thanked 
his Maker that he did not know a word of that frightful 
jargon., the French language? ” 

The women were much impressed. They would not 
have dared, themselves, to say a word against the French 
language; nevertheless, Coleridge was a person of autliority. 
Bell looked as if she would like to have some further opinions 
of this sort; but Mr. Freeman had not at that time uttered 
his ej)igram about the general resemblance of a Norman 
farmer to “ a man of Yorkshire or Lincolnshire who has 
somehow picked up a bad habit of talking French,” nor that 
other about a Dane wlio, “ in his sojourn in Gaul had put 
on a slight French varnish, and who came into England to 
be washed clean again.” 

“ Now,” I say to Bell, “ if you had only civilly asked 
me to join in tlie argument, I could have given you all sorts 
of testimony to the wortli of the Germans and the despic¬ 
able nature of the French.” 

“ Yes, it makes the wliole thing absurd,” says Bell, some¬ 
what hni't. “ I don’t think you believe anything seriously.” 

“Not in national characteristics even ? If not in them, 
what are we to believe? But I will help you all the same, 
Bell. Now, did you ever hear of a sonnet in wdiicli Words¬ 
worth, after recalling some of the great names of the 
Commonwealth time, goes on to say,— 

“ ‘ France, ’tis strange, 

ITath brought forth no such souls as we had then. 
J’erpetual emptiness ! unceasing change I 
No single volume paramount, no code, 

No master spirits, no determined road : 

But equally a want of books and men 1* 

Does that please you ? ” 


848 


THE STRANGE AD VENTURES 


“ Yes,” says Bell, contentedly. 

“Well did you ever read a poem called ‘Hands all 
Round ?’ 

“ No.” 

“You never heard of a writer in tlic Examiner called 
‘ Merlin,’whom people to this day maintain was the Poet- 
laureate of England ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Well, listen: 

“ ‘ What health to France, if France he she 
Whom martial progress only charms ? 

Yet tell her—better to be free 

Than vanquish all the world in arms. 

Her frantic city’s Hashing heats 

Hut fire, to blast, the hopes of men. 

AVhy change the titles of your streets ? 

You fools, you’ll want them ail again. 

Tlands all rouiul ! 

God the tyrant’s cause confound ! 

To France, the wiser France, we drink, my friends. 

And the great name of England, round and round I” 

At that time. Miss Bell, thousands of people in this country 
were disquieted about the possible projects of the new 
French Government; and as it was considered that the 
Second Napoleon would seek to establish his power by the 
fame of foreign conquest—” 

This is quite a historical lecture,” says Queen Tita, in 
an undertone. 

“—and as the Napoleonic legend included the humilia¬ 
tion of England, many thoughtful men began to cast about 
for a possible ally with whom we could take the field. To 
which country did they turn, do you think? ” 

“ To Germany, of course,” says Bell, in the most natural 
way in the world. 

“ Listen again: 

“ ‘ Gigantic daughter of the West, 

We drink to thee across the flood. 

We know thee, and we love thee best, 

For art thou not of British blood ? 

Should war’s ma<l blast again be blown, 

Permit not thou the tyrant powers 
To fight thy mother here alone, 

But let thy broadsides roar with ours. 

Hands all round ! 

God the tyrant’s cause confound ! 

To our dear kinsmen of the West, my friends. 

And the great name of England, round and round.’'’ 


OF A PHAETON. 


841 


Bell seemed a little disappointed that America and n( k 
Germany had been singled out by the poet; but of coursd 
nations don’t choose allies merely to please a girl who haj- 
pens to have engaged herself to marry a Prussian officer. 

“ Now,” I say to her, ‘ you see what aid I might ha\ -3 
given you, if you only had asked me prettily. But suj^pof e 
we give Germany a turn now; suppose we search about for 
all the unpleasant things—” 

“ Oh no, please don’t,” says Bell, submissively. 

This piece of unfairness was so obvious and extreme 
that Von Rosen himself was at last goaded into taking up 
the cause of France, and even went the length of suggest¬ 
ing that peradventure ten righteous men might be found 
within the city of Paris. ’ Twas a notable concession. I 
had begun to despair of France. But no sooner had the 
lieutenant turned the tide in her favor than my lady and 
Bell seemed graciously disposed to be generous. Chateau¬ 
briand was not Goethe, but he was a pleasing writer. 
Alfred de Musset was not Heine, but he had the merit of 
resembling him. If Auber did not exactly reach the posi¬ 
tion of a Beethoven or a Mozart, one had listened to worse 
operas tliau the “ Crown Diamonds.” The women did not 
know much about philosophy; but while they were sure 
that all tlie learning and wisdom of the world had come 
from Germany, they allowed that France had produced a 
few c})igrams. In this amiable frame of mind we drove 
along the white road on this summer day ; and after having 
passed the great gap in the Moffat Hills which leads through 
to St Mary’s Loch and all the wonders of the Ettrick and 
the Yarrow, we drove into Moffat itself, and found ourselves 
in n large hotel fronting a great sunlit and empty square. 

Our young people liad really conducted themselves very 
discreetly. All that forenoon you would scarcely have im¬ 
agined that they had just made a solemn promise to marry 
each other ; but, then, they had been pretty much occupied 
with ancient and modern history. Now, as we entered a 
room in the hotel the lieutenant espied a number of flowers 
in a big 'glass vase; and without any pretence of conceal¬ 
ment whatever, he walked up to it, selected a white rose, 
and brought it back to Bell. 

“ Mademoiselle,” he said, in a low voice ; but who could 
help hearing him? “you did give to me, the other day, a 
forget-me-not. Will you take this rose? ” 

Mademoiselle looked rather shy for a moment; but she 


350 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


took tlie rose, and with an affectation of unconcern wliich 
did not conceal an extra touch of color in her pretty face, 
she said, “Oh, thank you very much,” and proceeded to 
put it into the bosom of her dress. 

“Madame,” said the lieutenant, just as if nothing had 
occurred, “ I suppose Moffat is a sort of Scotch Baden- 
Baden ? ” 

]\Iadame, in turn, smiled sedately, and looked out of the 
window, and said that she thought it was. 

When we went out for a lounge after luncheon, we dis¬ 
covered that if Moffat is to be likened to Baden-Baden, it 
forms an exceedingly Scotch and respectable Baden-Baden. 
The building in which the mineral waters are drunk"*^ looks 
somewhat like an educational institution, painted white, 
and with prim white iron railings. Inside, instead of that 
splendid saloon of the Conversationshaus in 'which, amidst 
a glare of gas, various characters, doubtful and otherwise, 
Avalk up and down and chat while their friends are losing 
five-franc pieces and napoleons in the adjoining chambers, 
v/e found a long and sober-looking reading-rootn. Moffat 
itself is a white, clean, wide-streeted place, and the hills 
around it are smooth and green ; but it is very far removed 
from Baden-Baden. It is a good deal more proper, and a 
great deal more dull. Perhaps we did not visit it in the 
Iteight of the season, if it has got a seasoti; but we were, 
at all events, not very sorry to get away from it again, and 
out into the hilly country beyond. 

That was a pretty drive up through Annandale. As 
you leave Moffat the road gradually ascends into the re¬ 
gion of the hills; and down below you lies a great valley, 
with the river Annan running through it, and the town of 
Moffat itself getting smaller in the distance. You catch a 
glimmer of the blue peaks of Westmoreland lying far away 
in the south, half hid amidst silver haze. The hills around 
you increase in size, and yet you would not recognize the 
bulk of the great round slopes but for those minute dots 
that you can make out to be sheep, and for an occasional 

* “ Bicn entendu, d’ailleurs, que le but du voyage 
Kst de proudie les oaux ; c’est un comptc regie. 

13’eaux. je n’en ai point vai lorsque j’y suis alle 
Mais qu’on ou puisse voir, je ii’en mets rien cn gage ; 

Je crois nicine, en honiieur, que Teau de voisiiiage 
A, quaiid ou Texamine, im petit gout sale.” 

A. De MuhhcL 


OF A PHAETON. 


351 


wasp-like creature that you suppose to be a Iiorse. The 
evening draws on. The yellow light on the slopes of green 
becomes warmer. You arrive at a great circular chasm 
which is called by the country folks the Devil’s Beef- 
tub—a mighty hollow, the western sides of which are steeped 
in a soft purple shadow, while the eastern slopes burn yel- 
low‘in the sunlight. Far away down in that misty purple 
you can see tints of gray, and these are masses of slate un¬ 
covered by grass. The descent seems too abrupt for cattle, 
and yet there are faint specks which may be sheep. There 
is no house, not even a farinhouse, near; and all traces of 
INIoffat and its neighborhood have long been left out of 
sight. 

But what is the solitude of this place to that of the 
wild and lofty region you enter when you reach the sum¬ 
mits of the hills? Far away on every side of you stretch 
miles of lonely moorland, with the shoulders of more distant 
hills reaching down in endless succession into the western 
sky. There is no sign of life in this wild place. The stony 
road over whicli you drive was once a mail-coach road ; 
now it is overgrown with grass. A few old stakes, rotten 
and tumbling, show where it was neccessary at one time to 
place a protection against the sudden descents on the side 
of the road ; but now the road itself seems lapsing back 
into moorland. It is up in this wilderness of heather and 
wet moss that the Tweed takes its rise; but we could hear 
no trickling of any stream to break the profound and mel¬ 
ancholy stillness. There was not even a shepherd’s hut 
visible ; and we drove on in silence, scarcely daring to 
break the charm of the utter loneliness of the place. 

The road twists round to the right. Before us a long 
valley is seen, and we guess that it receives the waters of 
the Tweed. Almost immediately afterward we come upon 
a tiny rivulet some two feet in width—either the young 
Tweed itself or one of its various sources ; and as we drive 
on in the gathering twilight towards the valley, it seems as 
though we were accompanied by innumerable streamlets 
trickling down to the river. The fire of sunset goes out in 
the west, but over there in the clear green-white of the 
e.ast a range of hills still glows with a strange roseate purple. 
AYe liearl.he low murmuring of the Tweed in the silence of 
the valley. We get down among the lower-lying hills, and 
the neighborhood of the river seems to have drawn to it 
thousands of wild creatures. Tliere are plover calling and 


352 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


whirling over the marshy levels. There are blackcock and 
gray hen dusting themselves in the road before us, and 
waiting until we are quite near to them before they wing 
their straight flight up to the heaths above. Far over us, 
in the clear green of the sky, a brace of wild ducks go 
swiftly past. A weasel glides out and over the gray stones 
by the roadside , and farther along the bank thei*e are 
young rabbits watching, and trotting and watching again, 
as the phaeton gets nearer to them. And then, as the 
deep rose-purple of the eastern hills fades away, and all the 
dark-green valley of the Tweed lies under the cold silver- 
gray of the twilight, we reach a small and solitary inn, and 
are almost surprised to hear once more the sound of a 
human voice. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


OUR EPILOGUE. 

“Nor much it grieves 

To die, when summer dies on the cold sward. 

Why, I have been a butterfly, a lord 
Of flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies. 

Groves, meadows, melodies, and arbor-roses: 

J([y kingdom’s at its death.” 

When you have dined on ham and eggs and whiskey 
the evening before, to breakfast on ham and eggs and tea 
is a great relief the morning after. We gathered round 
the table in this remote little inn with much thankfulness 
of heart. We were to have a glorious day for the close of 
our journey. All round the Crook Inn there was a glare 
of sunshine on the rowan-trees. The soft grays and greens 
of the hills on the other side of the river rose into a pale- 
blue sky, where there was not a single cloud. And then, 
to complete the picture of the moorland hostelry, appeared 
a keeper who had just set free from their kennel a lot of 
handsome setters, and the dogs were flying hither and thither 



OF A PHAETOFT, 353 

along the white road and over the grass and weeds by the 
tall liedges. 

“ Do you know,” said Bell, “ that this used to be a 
]>osting-hou8e that liad thirty horses in its own stables; and 
now it is only used by a few sportsmen who come here for 
the fishing and, later on for the sliooting? ” 

So she, too, liad taken to getting up in the morning and 
acquiring information. 

‘‘ Yes,” she said, “but it has been taken by a new land¬ 
lord, who hopes to have gentlemen come and lodge here by 
the mouth in the autumn.” 

She was beginning to show a great interest in the affairs 
of strangers : hitherto she had cared for none of these 
things, except where one of our Surrey pensioners was con¬ 
cerned. 

“ And tlie hostler is such an intelligent and independent 
old man, who lets you know that he understands horses a 
great deal better than you.” 

I could see that my lady \vas mentally tracking out 
Bell’s wanderings of the morning. Under whoso tuition 
liad she discovered all that about the landlord? Under 
whose guidance had she found herself talking to an hostler 
in the neighborliood of the stables But she had not 
devoted the whole morning to sucli inquiries. We remarked 
that the lieutenant wore in his buttonhole a small bouquet 
of tiny wild flowers, the faint colors of which were most 
skilfully combined and shown up by a bit of fern placed 
behind them. You may be sure that it was not the clumsy 
fingers of the young Uhlan that had achieved that work 
of art. 

“And now, my dear children,” I observe, from the head 
of the table, “we have arrived at the last stage of our 
travels. Wo have done nothing that we ought to have 
done ; we have done everything that we ought not to have 
done. As one of you has already pointed out, we have 
never visited a museum, or exiilored a ruin, or sought out 
an historical scene. Our very course has been inconsistent, 
abnormal, unreasonable. Indeed, if one were to imagine a 
sheet of lightning getting tipsy and wandering over the 
country in a helpless fashion for several days, that might 
describe our route. We have had no adventures that could 
be called adventures, no experiences to turn our hair gray 
dn a dozen hours; only a general sense of light, and fresh 
air, and motion, and laughter. We have seen green fields. 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


z:a 

and blue skies, and silver lakes ; we have seen bright 
mornings and breezy days, and spent comfortable evenings 
in comfortable inns. Shall we not look back upon this 
month in our lives, and call it the month of sunshine and 
green leaves ? ” 

Here a tapping all around the table greeted the orator, 
and somewhat disconcerted him; but presently he pro¬ 
ceeded :— 

“ If, at times, one member of our party, in the reckless 
exercise of a gift of repartee which heaven, for some inscru¬ 
table reason, has granted her, has put a needle or two into 
our couch of eider-down—” 

“ I pronounce this meeting dissolved,” says Bell quickly, 
and with a resolute air. 

“ Yes, mademoiselle,” put in the lieutenant. “ It is 
dissolved. But as it breaks up—it is a solemn occasion— 
might we not drink one glass of Champagne—” 

Here a shout of laughter overwhelmed the young man. 
Champagne up in these wild moorlands of Peebles, where 
the youthful Tweed and its tributaries wander through an 
absolute soltitude! The motion was negatived without a 
division; and then we went out to look after Castor and 
I^ollux. 

All that forenoon we were chased by a cloud as wo 
drove down the valley of the Tweed. Around us there was 
abundant sunlight—falling on the gray bed of the river, 
the brown water, the green banks and hills beyond; but 
down in the southwest was a great mass of cloud which 
came slowly advancing with its gloom. Here we were still 
in the brightness of the yellow glare, with a cool breeze 
stirring the rowan-trees and the tall weeds by the side of 
the river. Then, as we got farther down the valley, the 
bed of the stream grew broader. There were great banks of 
gray pebbles visible, and the brown water running in shallow 
channels between where the stones fretted its surface, and 
caused a murmur that seemed to fill the silence of the 
smooth hills around. Here and there a solitary fisherman 
was visible, standing in the river and persistently whipping 
the stream with his supple fly-rod. A few cottages began 
to appear at considerable intervals. But w^e came to no 
village ; and as for an inn, we never expected to see one. 
We drove leisurely along the now level road, through a 
country rich with waving fields of grain, and dotted here 
and there with comfortable-looking farmhouses. 


OF A PlfAETO.V. 


355 


Then Bell sung to us:— 

Upon a time I chnncetl 
To walk aloii" the jii-cen, 

■Where pretty lasses danced 
In strife to choose a queen ; 

Some homely dressed, some handsome, 

Some pretty and some jiay, 

But wlio excelled in dancing 
Must be the Queen of May.” 

But wlien slic IiaJ sunij the last verse,— 

‘ Then all the rest in sorrow, 

And she in sweet content, 

Gave over till tlie morrow. 

And homeward straight they went. 

But she, of all the rest, 

■Was hindered by the way. 

For every youth that met her 
Must kiss the Queen of May”— 

my lady said it was very pretty, only why did Bell sing an 
English song after sIjc had been trying to persuade us that 
she lield the English and tlieir music in contein])t ? 

“Now, did I ever say' anytliing like that?” said Bell, 
turning, in an injured way', to the lieutenant. 

“ No,” says lie, boldly. If she had asked him to swear 
tliat two and two were seven, lie would have said that tho 
man was a paralyzed imbecile who did not know it already. 

“But I will sing you a Scotch song, if you please,” says 
Bell, shrewdly suspecting that that was the object of Tita’s 
protest. 

“ ye gang to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay ? ” 

«—this was what Bell sung now,— 

“ ‘Will ye gang to the Hielands wi’ me ? 

Will ye gang to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay, 

My pride and my darling to be ? ” 

To gang to the Hielands wi’ you, sir, 

I dinna ken how that may be ; 

For I ken nae the land that you live in, 

Nor ken I the lad I’m gaun wi’.’ 

And so forth to the end, where the young lady ^ kilts up 
her coats o* green satin,” and is off with Lord Ronald Mac¬ 
donald. Probably tho lieutenant meant only to show that 


356 


7'IIE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


he knew the meaning of the word “ Hielands ; ” but when 
he said,— 

“ And we do go to the Highlands, yes?” the girl was 
greatly taken aback. It seemed as though he were coolly 
placing himself and her in the position of the hero and 
and heroine of the song; and my lady smiled, and Bell got 
confused, and the lieutenant, not knoAving Avhat was the 
matter, stared, and then turned to me to repeat the ques¬ 
tion. By this time Bell had recovered herself, and she 
answered, hastily,— 

“ Oh, yes, we shall go to the Highlands, shall Ave not ?—• 
to the Trossachs, and Ben Nevis, and Auchenashecn-” 

“And Orkney too, Bell? Do you knoAV the Avild pro¬ 
posal you are making in laying out plans for another month’s 
holiday ? ” 

“ And Avhy not ? ” says the lieutenant. “It is only a 
pretence, this talk of much Avork. You shall send the 
horses and phaeton back by the rail from Edinburgh ; then 
you are free to go away anyAvhcre for another month. Is 
it not so, madame ? ” 

Madame is silent. She knoAvs that she has only to say 
“ yes ” to have the thing settled; but thoughts of home 
and the cares of that pauperized parish croAvd in upon her 
mind. 

“ I suppose Ave shall get letters from the boys to-night, 
when Ave reach Edinburgh. There Avill be letters from 
home, too, saying whether everything is right doAvn there. 
There may be no reason for going back at once.” 

She was evidently yielding. Was it that she Avanted to 
give those young people the chance of a summer ramble 
which they would remember for the rest of their life ? The 
prospect lent a kindly look to her face; and, indeed, the 
whole of them looked so exceedingly hap])y, and so danger¬ 
ously forgetful of the graver aspects of life, that it was 
thought desirable to ask them Avhether there might not be 
a message from Arthur among the batch of letters aAvaiting 
us in Edinburgh. 

’Twas a random stroke, but it struck hoTue. The con¬ 
science of these careless people Avas touclu d. They knew 
in their inmost hearts that they had Avholly forgotten that 
unhappy young man Avhom they had sent baefe to TAvicken- 
ham Avith all his faith in human nature destroyed forever. 
But was it pity for him that noAv filled their faces, or a vague 


OF A PHAETON. 357 

rlrond IhatArthnr inioflit, in llie last extremity of liis madness, 
liave Gfone up to Edinburgh by rail to meet us there ? 

“ He promised us an important communication,” says my 
lady. 

She would not say that it was understood to refer to his 
Tuarriage ; but that was the impression he liad left. Very 
probably, too, she was haunted by speculations as to how 
such a marriage, if it took place, would turn out; and 
whether little Katty Tatham would be able to reconcile 
Arthur to his lot, and convince him that he was very for¬ 
tunate in not having married that faithless Bell. 

“ Madame,” said the lieutenant, suddenly—he did not 
care to have that pitiful fellow Arthur receive so much con¬ 
sideration—“this is a very sober country. Shall we never 
come to an inn ? The Champagne I spoke of, that has gone 
away as a dream; but on tins warm day a little lemonade 
and a little 'whiskey—that would do to drink the health of 
our last drive, yes ! But there is no inn—nothing but those 
fields of corn, and farmhouses.” 

At last, however, we came to a village. The lieutenant 
proposed to pull up and give Castor and Pollux a mouthful 
of water and oatmeal: it was always Castor and Pollux 
that were supposed to be thirsty. But what was his 
amusement to find that in the village there was no inn of 
any kind! 

“ I wish there were some villages of this sort down in 
our part of the country,” says Queen Tita, with a sigh. 
“ With us they build the public-house first, and that draws 
other houses.” 

And with that Bell began to relate to the lieutenant how 
my lady was once vexed beyond measure to find—just as 
she was coming out of an obscure public-house on a Sunday 
morning, after having compelled the tipsy and quarrelling 
landlord thereof to beg forgiveness of his wife—a whole 
group of visitors at the squire’s house coming along the 
road from church, and staring at her as if she had gone into 
the public for refreshment. It Avas a vastly interesting 
story, perhaps ; but the sulky young man paid little heed to 
it. He wore an injured look. lie kept looking far ahead 
along the road ; and, although it was a very pretty road, ho 
did not seem satisfied. At length he pulled the horses up, 
and hailed a farmer who, in his white shirt-sleeves, was 
working in a field close by, along with a domestic group of 
fellow laborers. 


858 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


“I say,” called out the lieutenant, “ isn’t there an inn on 
this road ?” 

“ Ay, that there is,” said the man, with a grim smile, as 
he rose up and drew his sleeve across his forehead. 

“ How far yet ? ” 

“ Twa miles. It’s a temperance hoose ! ” 

“ A temperance hoose,” said the lieutenant to Bell; 
“ what is a.temperance hoose? ” 

“ They don’t sell any spirits there, or beer, or wine.” 

“ And is that -what is called temperance ?” said the lieu¬ 
tenant, in a peevisli way; and then he called out again, 
“ Look here, my good friend, when do we come to a proper 
kind of inn ? ” 

“ There is an inn at Ledburn—that’s eight miles on.” 

“ Eight miles ! And where was the last one we passed ? ” 

“ Well, that maun be about seven miles back.” 

“Thank you. It is healthy for you, perliaps, but how 
you can live in a place where there is no public-house not 
for fifteen miles—well, it is a wonder. Good-day to you,” 

“ Gude-day, sir,” said the farmer, with a broad, good- 
humored laugh on his face. The lieutenant was obviously 
not the first thirsty soul who had complained of the scarcity 
of inns in these parts. 

“ These poor Iiorses ! ” growled the lieutenant as we 
drove on. “It is the hottest day avc have had. The clouds 
have gone away, and we have beaten in the race. And 
other eight miles in this heat--” 

He would ])robably have gone on compassionating the 
horses, but that he caught a glimpse of Bell demurely smil¬ 
ing, and then he said,— 

“ Ila, you think I speak for myself, mademoiselle ? 
That also, for when you give your horses water, you should 
drink yourself always, for the good of the inn. But now 
that we can get nothing, madame, shall we imagine it, yes ? 
What we shall drink at the Ledburn inn? Have you tried, 
on a hot day, this : one glass of sparkling hock poured into 
a tumbler, then a bottle of Seltzer-water, then three drops 
of Angostura bitters, and a lump of ice ? That is very good; 
and this too: you put a glass of pale sherry in the tumbler, 
then a little lemon-juice—” 

“Please, Count Von Rosen, may I put it down in my 
note-book?” says Tita, hurriedly. “You know I have 
your recipe for a luncheon. Wouldn’t these do for it ? ” 



OF A PHAETON. 


359 


“ Yes, nncl for you ! ” says a third voice. “ What mad¬ 
ness has seized you, to talk of ice and liock in connection 
V’itli Ledburii? If you get decent Scotcli whiskey and ham 
and eggs for luncheon, you may consider yourself well 
off.” 

“I am a little tired of that sort of banquet,” says my 
lady, with a gentle look of resignation. “ Couldn’t we drive 
on to Edinburgh? ” 

But for the sake of the horses, we should all liave been 
glad to do that; for the appearance of this Ledburn inn, when 
we got to it, impressed us with awe and terror. ’Tis a cut¬ 
throat-looking place. The dingy, dilapidated building stands 
at the parting of two roads ; the doors were shut as we 
drove up to it; there was no one about of whom we could 
ask a question. It looked the sort of ])lace for travellers 
to reach at dead of night, and become the subject of one 
or other of the sombre adventures which are associated 
with remote and gloomy inns in the annals of romance. 
When we did get hold of the landlord, his appearance was 
not prepossessing. He was a taciturn and surly person. 
There was apparently no hostler, and he helped Von Rosen 
to take the horses out of the phaeton ; but he did so in a 
fashion which awoke the ire of the lieutenant to a serious 
degree, and some sharp M’ords were being bandied about 
when I drove the women into the inn. 

“That is a dreadful person,” said my lady. 

“ Why? Ho has become morose in this solitary inn, that 
is all. If you were shut up here for a few years, what 
Avould you become?” 

We had ham and eggs and whiskey in a dingy little 
chamber upstairs. The women would touch nothing, not¬ 
withstanding that the lieutenant came in to announce that 
the shoe of one of the horses had got loose, and that a 
smith would have to be sent for from some distance off. 
Moreover, when the smith did come, it was found that our 
ingenious landlord had not informed him what was required 
of him, and consequently he had brought no tools. Should 
we send the liorse back with him, or would he despatch a 
boy for his tools ? 

“ How many miles is it to Edinburgh ? ” says my lady. 

“ About a dozen 1 should think.” 

“We couldn’t walk that, do you think?” she says to 
Bell, with a doubtful air. 


300 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES 


Bell could walk it very well, I know; but she regards 
lier companion for a moment, and says,— 

“ We must not try.” 

Looking at this fix, and at the annoyance the women 
experienced in being detained in this inhospitable hostelry, 
that young Prussian got dreadfully enraged. He was all 
the more wroth that there was no one on whom he could 
reasonably vent his anger; and, in fact, it was 51 most for¬ 
tunate thing for our host that he had at last condescended to 
be a little more civil. The lieutenant came up into the room, 
and proposed that we should j)lay at bezique. Impossible. 
Or would mademoiselle care to have the guitar taken out? 
Mademoiselle would prefer to have it remain where it was. 
And at length we went outside and sat in the yard, or 
prowled along the uninteresting road, until the smith arrived, 
and then we had the horses put in, and set out upon the last 
stage of our journey. 

We drove on in the deepening sunset. The ranges of 
the Pentland Hills on our left were growing darker, and the 
wild moorland country around was getting to be of a deeper 
and deeper purple. Sometimes, from the higher portions 
of the road we caught a glimpse of Arthur’s Seat, and in 
the whiter sky of the northeast it lay there like a pale-blue 
cloud. We passed through Pennycuick, ])icturesquely 
placed along the wooded banks of the North Esk. But we 
were driving leisurely enough along the level road, for the 
horses had done a good day’s work, and there still remained 
a few miles before they had earned their rest. 

Was it because we were driving near a great city that 
Yon Rosen somewhat abruptly asked my lady what was the 
best part of London to live in ? The question was an odd 
one fora young man. Bell pretended not to hear: she 
was busy with the reins. Whereupon Tita began to con¬ 
verse with her companion on the troubles of taking a house, 
and how your friends would inevitably wonder how you could 
have chosen such a neighborhood instead of their neighbor¬ 
hood, and assure you, with much compassion, that you had 
paid far too much for it. 

“ And as for Pimlico,” I say to him, “ you can’t live 
there: the sight of its stucco would kill you in a month. 
And as for Brornpton, you can’t live there ; it lies a hundred 
feet below the level of the Thames. And as for South Kens¬ 
ington, you can’t live there; it is a huddled mass of mews. 
And as for Belgravia or Mayfair, you can’t live there 5 for 


OF A niAETON. 


861 


you could not pay the rent of a good house, and the had 
houses are in slums. Paddington ?—a thousand miles from 
a theatre. Ilampsted ?—good-by to your friends. Blooms¬ 
bury ?—the dulness of it will send you to an early grave. 
Islington?—you will acquire a Scotch accent in a fortnight. 
Clapham ?—you will become a Dissenter. Denmark Hill ? 
they will exclude you from all the fashionable directories. 
Brixton ?—the ‘ endless meal of brick’ will drive you mad. 
But then it is true that Pimlico is the best-drained part of 
London. And Brompton has the most beautiful old gardens. 
And South Kensington brings you close to all sorts of ar¬ 
tistic treasures. And Hampstead has a healthy situation. 
And Mayfair is close to the Park. And Clapham is close 
to several commons, and offers you excellent drives. And 
Denmark Hill is buried in trees, and you descend from it 
into meadows and country lanes. And Islington is cele¬ 
brated for possessing the prettiest girls in the world. And 
Brixton has a gravelly soil—so that you see, looking at all 
these considerations, you will have no difficulty whatever in 
deciding where you ought to live.” 

“ I think, ” said the young man, gravely,^ the easiest 
way of choosing a house in London is to take one in the 
country.” 

“ Oh do live in the country! ” exclaims Tita, with much 
anxiety. “ You can go so easily up to London and take 
rooms about Bond Street or in Ilalfmoon Street, if you wish 
to see pictures or theatres. And what part of the country 
near London could you get prettier than down by Leather- 
head?” 

Bell is not appealed to. She will not hear. She pretends 
to be desperately concerned about the horses. And so the 
discussion is postponed, stwe until the evening; and in 
the gathering darkness we approach Edinburgh. 

How long the way seemed on this last night of our driv¬ 
ing ! The clear twilight faded away ; and the skies over¬ 
head began to show faint throbbings of the stars. A pale yel¬ 
low glow on the horizon told us where the lights of Edinburgh 
were afire. The road grew almost indistinguishable ; but 
overhead the great worlds became more visible in the deep 
vault of blue. In a perfect silence we drove along the still 
highway between the dark hedges ; and clearer and more 
clear became the white constellations, trembling in the dark. 
What was my lady thinking of—of Arthur, or her boys at 
Twickenham, or of long forgotten days at Eastbourne* as 


8(32 


THE STRANGE AD FEN TORES 


she looked up at all the wonders of the night ? There lay 
King Charles’s Wain as we had often regarded it from a 
boat at sea, as we lay idly on the lapping waves. The jewels 
on Cassiopeia’s chair glimmered faint and pale ; and all the 
brilliant stars of the Dragon’s hide trembled in the dark. 
The one bright star of the Swan recalled many an evening 
in the olden times ; and here,nearer at hand, Capella shone, 
and there Cepheus looked over to the polcstar as from the 
distance of another universe. Somehow it seemed to us 
that under the great and throbbing vault the sea ought to be 
lying clear and dark; but these were other masses we saw 
before us, where the crags of Artliur’s Seat rose sharp and 
black into the sky. We ran in almost under the shadow of 
that silent mass of hill. We drew nearer to the town ; and 
then we saw before us long and waving lines of red fire, the 
gas-lamps of a mighty street. We left the majesty of tlie 
night outside, and were soon in the heart of the great city. 
Our journey was at an end. 

But wlien the horses had been consigned to their stables, 
and all arrangements made for their transference next day 
to London, we sat down at the window of a Princes Street 
Hotel. The tables behind were inviting enough. Our even¬ 
ing meal had been ordered, and at length the lieutenant 
had the wish of his heart in procuring the Scliaumwein with 
which to drink to the good health of our good horses tliat had 
brought us so far. But what in all the journey was there to 
equal the magic sight that lay before us as we turned to 
these big panes ? Beyond a gulf of blackness the old town 
of Edinburgh rose with a thousand ])oints of fire into the 
clear sky of a summer night. The tall houses, Avith their 
eight or nine stories, had their innumerable windows ablaze ; 
and the points of orange light shone in the still blue shadow, 
until they seemed to form part of some splendid and en¬ 
chanted palace built on the slopes of a lofty hill. And then 
beyond that we could see the great crags of the Castle 
looming dark in the starlight, and we knew, rather than 
saw, that there Avere Avails and turrets up there, cold and 
distant, looking doAvn on the yellow glare of the city be¬ 
neath. What Avas Cologne, Avith the colored lamps of its 
steamers, as you see them cross the yelloAV Avaters of the 
Rhine Avhen a full moon shines o\mr the houses of Deutz; 
or Avhat was Prague, Avith its countless spires piercing the 
starlight and its great bridge crossing over to the Avooded 
heights of the llradschin—compared to this magnificent 


OF A PHAETOFT. 


363 


spectacle in the noblest city of the world ? The lights of 
the distant liouses went out one by one. The streets be¬ 
came silent. Even the stars grow paler ; but why was tint? 
A faint light, golden and soft, began to steal along the 
Castle-hill; and the slow mild radiance touched the sharp 
slopes, the trees, and the great gray walls above, which were 
under the stars. 

“ Oh, my dear,” says Tita, quite gently, to Bell, “ we 
have seen nothing like that, not even in your own country 
of the Lakes! ” 

[Note by Queen Titania. —“ It seems to me they have put upon mo 
the responsibility of saying the last wordj which is not quite fair. In 
the old comedies it was always the heroine of the piece who came for¬ 
ward to the footlights, and in her prettiest way spoke the epilogue ; 
and of course the heroine was always young and nice-looking. If 
Bell would only do that, now, I am sure you would be pleased ; but 
she is afraid to appear in public. As for myself, I don’t know what 
to say. Count Von Rosen suggests that I should copy some of tlie 
ancient authors and merely say ‘ Farewell, and clap your hands ; ’ 
but very likely that is a joke—for who can tell when gentlemen intend 
to be amusing 9 —and perhaps they never said anything so foolish. 
But, as you are not to be addressed by the heroine of the piece, 
perhaps, considering my age~which I am seldom allowed to forget — 
perhaps a word of advice may be permitted. And that is to the ladies 
and gentlemen who always go abroad and spend a great deal of time 
and money in hiring carriages to drive them in foreign parts. Of 
course every one ought to go abroad; but why every year ? I am sure 
I am not prejudiced, and I never enjoyed any tour abroad so much as 
this one through England. I do consider England and of course you 
must include Scotland and Ireland the most beautiful country in the 
world. I have never been to America ; but that does not matter. 
It cannot be more beautiful than Phigland. If it is so, so much the 
better, but I for one am quite satisfied with England ; and as for the 
old-fashioned and quaint places you meet on a driving tour such as 
this, I am sure the American ladies and gentlemen whom I have met 
have always admitted to me that they were delightful. Well, that is 
all. I shall say nothing about our young friends, for I think sufficient 
revelations have been made in the foregoing pages. Arthur has only 
been to see us once since our return, and of course we could not ask 
him the reason of his getting married so unexpectedly, for Katty was 
with him, and very pleased and happy she looked. Arthur was very 
civil to our Bell ; whicdi shows that his marriage has improved him in 
one respect; but he was a little cold and distant at the same time. 
The poor girl was dreadfully frightened ; but she made herself very 
friendly to him,and kissed little Katty in the most afectionate manner 
when they were going awuay. Luckily, perhaps,Lieutenant Von Rosen 
was up in London; but when he came down next day. Bell had a great 
deal to tell him in private ; and the result of the conversation---of 
which w'e elderly folks, of course, are not permitted to know anything 
—seemed to be very pleasing to them both. ^ Then there was a talk 
between my husband aud him in the evening about a loose-box in 


THE STRANGE ADVENTURES. 


certain stables. Boll came and put lier arm round my waist, and bo* 
sought me nery prettily to tell lier what were the nicest colors for a 
drawing-room. It seems there is some liouse, about a couple of miles 
from here, which tliey have visited ; but I am not going to tell you 
any more. As our Bell is too sliy to come forw.ard, I suppose 1 must 
say good-by for her, and thank you very much indeed for coming with 
ns so far on such a loug and roundabout journey—T-]” 






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